Hinds specialize in songs about love—which are not the same as love songs. Their jaunty tunes don’t so much offer declarations of devotion as catalog all the conflicted emotions, second-guessing, and compromises that lead up to them. In a Hinds song, love isn’t the product of the universe bringing two soulmates together, love is the result of uncomfortable conversations and ultimatums issued after one too many casual hook-ups. But on I Don’t Run, the Madrid quartet wade through these messy feelings with confidence and exuberance to spare, taking us on a pleasure cruise through choppy waters.
If Hinds’ 2016 debut, Leave Me Alone, presented more discrete genre exercises, I Don’t Run melts down its ’60s girl-group, ’90s twee, and post-DeMarco indie-pop influences down into a lustrous swirl befitting its superior songcraft. But like its predecessor, I Don’t Run’s charm offensive is powered by the interplay between singer-guitarists Ana Perrote and Carlotta Cosials, who share songwriting duties with Ade Martin on bass and Amber Grimbergen on drums. Their sugar-and-spice dynamic presents a study in sharp contrasts: the former favors a calm tone that belies her cutting sentiments; the latter voraciously devours her lyrics and lets the words melt in her mouth like pieces of sponge toffee. But unlike most foils, these two are always working together, whether they’re eagerly finishing each other’s sentences, providing emotional support, or just amplifying the sense of hysteria through harmonies that push the mix into the red.
Their audible sense of camaraderie functions as a form of group therapy. Atop the deceptively laid-back groove of “Soberland,” the two lay into a potential partner who’s getting older but still wants to be the life of the party and enjoy all the non-committal sex it promises. They sing as a united front, delivering an ecstatic chorus that doubles as a tough-love intervention. “Tester” is even more testy, with the duo voicing the frustrations of a woman who realizes she’s a second-class citizen in her boyfriend’s little black book: “Why did you have to kiss me after sex/Should I’ve known before you were also banging her,” they seethe, before the song’s spirited jangle-punk stomp clears a beeline from the bed to the door.
The critiques are self-inflicted, too: The giddy “New for You” couches Perrote and Cosials’ pledge to change their duplicitous ways and be better partners—yet when they admit, “I don’t want to disappoint you with my new persona,” they tap into the latent fear that even positive changes can have destabilizing effects on relationships. And with the roughed-up ’50s pop of “Rookie,” they suggest the key to happiness is overlooking your mate’s imperfections: “Don’t know who messed your bed,” Parotte sings, “but my socks are staying there.”
On an album overflowing with cheeky ruminations on modern romance and pleas for commitment, the lo-fi acoustic closer “Ma Nuit” offers a stark portrait of Hinds’ day-to-day reality as touring musicians, and its inherent logistical incompatibility with domestic bliss. As Cosials’ Spanish-sung lyrics chronicle the difficulties of long-distance love, Perrote offers this glimmer of hope: “Every night when I’m on stage,” she sings, “I picture you in my favorite lines.” It’s a vulnerable moment, but for Hinds, this is what a proper love song should sound like.
