Tennis' Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley are a Pinterest-ready married couple. Perfect prep narrative (I mean, c’mon, even Vampire Weekend don’t sail), pretty pop songs, that sort of thing. But perfect and pretty get boring after a minute, and the two have come to realize that. With their third release, the five-song Small Sound EP, Tennis complicate the easy breezy beautiful schtick with some positive results.
The effort works off last year’s Young and Old, which the Denver-based band recorded with Black Key Patrick Carney acting as producer. Carney helped Tennis park the boat in the garage, upping the fuzz considerably from debut Cape Dory. Here on Small Sound, producer Richard Swift helps Tennis grow. “Dimming Light” starts with a sour riff that evokes Mac DeMarco, but ends strong with straightforward piano layered atop a tense synth line; hearing its arrangement, it's easy to imagine Swift coming in and taking over. Even with his own music, Swift tends to wear his vintage influences on his sleeve. If this guy can make the new Shins groove, he shouldn’t have too much trouble infusing 1970s flavor to Tennis’ Brill Building aesthetic from a decade earlier.
But Tennis aren’t Fitz and the Tantrums or anything quite so gaudy. Moore, Riley, and drummer James Barone work within their limitations to create an EP that offers subtle twists to their throwback thing. What sounds to be bassoon immediately funks up “Cured of Youth”, while Moore actually gets an opportunity to belt on the standout track. Organ lines, too, are peppered throughout the EP, but never overpower. “100 Lovers” sees Moore recalling an ex who was a real heartbreaker, her astutely noting, “100 loves will make you bold, 100 more will make you cold.” It’s the stuff of 60s Girl Group gold, but it goes to show you that while the music can progress, the lyrics won’t necessarily follow.
At their worst, narrative-heavy buzz bands like Tennis are the indie rock equivalent of YouTube novelty songs. Lyrics about coconut groves are precious, sure, but it’s hard to feel like there’s a future in that. It’s not to say blissed-out guitar pop isn’t a viable path—look at where Beach House have masterfully taken their sound—but Moore will never have Victoria Legrand's vocal depth. She’ll always sound sweet and innocent, better cooing atop a retro riff than leading listeners into dark corners. Moore sounds positively determined on the EP’s single and strongest song, “Mean Streets”, but when she chants the line, “Born and raised on the mean streets/ That’s where she learned how to keep the beat,” it’s hard to imagine she’s speaking autobiographically. Only so much change can be achieved over two LPs and one EP.
To liken Tennis to the liquid state of being would be insulting, but they do seem to take on the shape of the container they’re in. Essentially, each producer adds something new to the sound. Maybe by the next LP, they’ll have built something with real dimension.
