Caroline Polachek

Pang

Pang is a remarkable debut album assured of its legitimacy and brilliance, one that should be celebrated for its shimmering beauty and the success of its authorial intent.

Whereas Arcadia and Drawing the Target felt like experiments, in theatrical pop and minimal synth, respectively, Pang has arrived fully-formed. It is sometimes symphonic and operatic, sometimes poppy and danceable, and wholly arresting.

Polachek’s range, her penchant for leaving her gasps and deep breaths in her vocal tracks, her carefully thought-over phrasing — these tie Pang together into one very earwormy book of spells.

With 2019's Pang, her first album released under her own name, Polachek further distills her approach with a collection of deeply emotive songs that showcase her delicate vocals and intricate pop sensibilities.

An immense, nearly overwhelming spaciousness takes over Pang, which is intricately produced and layered with resplendent, crystalline trinkets of noise and sound unspooling around Polachek, whose vocals, immaculate and exacting, are amplified and crushed by reverb and vocoder.

Overall, Pang is a vivid and melodious portrait of a restless heart.

It's hard to deny just how sweet, cleanly produced, and fantastical the bulk of Pang is.

The former Chairlift singer maintains her creative synth-based pop proclivities, but opens up her personal life in more gut-punching ways than we've heard from Polachek before.

Pang introduces itself a little too quietly to be completely satisfying. However, once you give the album some time and understand its singular rhythms, there are treasures to be found there.

Best listened to sad and lonely in your bedroom, Pang is the perfect dance album for smart and sensitive boys and girls after their day’s journaling are done.

Polachek remains too much of a class act, a little too wedded to conventional beauty on songs like Look At Me Now, to really take her pop to the bleeding edge.