Tess Parks’ fourth solo album is suffused with otherness. When lyrics are direct, they are destabilised by the etiolated, freeze-dried voice delivering them. “Sometimes it feels like everyone should be dancing, maybe I should be dancing,” she sings during “Koalas.” It does not sound as if Parks has the energy to dance.
After a while, acclimatisation arrives and penetrating the album’s miasma-like atmosphere becomes possible. Nods to Mazzy Star and the solo Syd Barrett are evident (especially with “Koala”). There are also hints of early Chapterhouse, Recurring-era Spacemen 3, Nico and Judee Sill. All of which are amalgamated, and then filtered through the aural equivalent of heat haze. Lyrically, it appears the Canada-born, London-resident Parks is recounting the experience of living through a period of inertia, during which it was difficult to engage with external stimuli.
While the album may be about drawing a line between now and the recent past, marking her reintegration with the wider world, Parks has moved on from another aspect of her life. In 2018, after her first solo recordings were released, she issued a collaborative album with The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s Anton Newcombe. She also played live with the BJM and appeared on their records. It seems the association has become history. Pomegranate and its 2022 predecessor And Those Who Were Seen Dancing both post-date this involvement.
The adroit, engrossing, psychedelic Pomegranate is quite clearly Parks' own vehicle. However, a surprising and obviously unintended musical counterpart is to hand. The album’s fifth track is titled “Charlie Potato.” She recites its lyrics over a drifting, spacey, woozy backing. Stylistically, the only possible comparison is Mercury Rev’s recent album, Born Horses. Bizarre, but there it is. These well-matched sonic adventurers ought to share a live bill.
