Indie-pop duo Beverly is a project comprised of singer/drummer Frankie Rose and Drew Citron of New York pop stylists Avan Lava, the latter of which wrote the songs that make up the project's debut LP, Careers (Rose pitched in on drums and vocal harmonies). So Beverly is less a true duo than a vehicle for Citron’s compositional voice—Rose has since returned her focus to her solo career, and Citron will flesh out Beverly tracks live with the help of an all new band—and the material reflects Citron's smart choices with respect to genre and style.
There aren’t a ton of moving parts contained within these songs, so their success is dependent on the strength of Citron’s vocals and guitar parts. She has an incredible ear for tone and texture, which marks most of the best tracks on Careers: the crushing, blurry chords of “Honey Do”, the fuzz-flecked lead that kicks off “All the Things”, the serrated stabs of the hard-charging “Ambular.” The contrast between the oft-aggressive, mildly menacing sound of Citron’s guitar and her sweet, spacey harmonies with Rose is a compelling source of tension, especially on road warrior anthems like “Planet Birthday” and “Ambular,” songs that sound like wholesome, slightly bored teens tangling with their worst slash-and-burn impulses and pouring them into muddy four-track recorders.
Citron’s invocation of the realities of teenage life — surface sweetness, hidden lust, churning and boiling internal sensations — is largely a conscious decision; as told to Rolling Stone, the concept for Beverly was developed around “this trashy character, a teenaged brat who hangs out in a 7-Eleven parking lot, smokes cigarettes, and doesn’t get along with the other kids.” It's a loose concept, sure, but its presence can be felt on Careers, especially when Citron careens from venomous, angry punk to jangly, mild lust to blown-out emotional hangovers in the span of three songs.
The thematic expression is musical, too: with a few notable exceptions, like sleepy shoegaze ballad "Yale's Life", Citron chooses to focus on her sound's ability to create feeling instead of leaning on her words. (Perhaps she subscribes to a slightly altered version of the old music journalism chestnut: writing about teendom is like dancing about architecture.) So lyrically, there's potential for growth, as her takes on youth can only stand to be fleshed out by greater lyrical focus. For now, Careers stands up as a testament to the power of serendipity and a decent first effort from a blooming young songwriter.
