The highs and lows of Yvette Young’s chaotic 2022 all revolved around a new set of wheels. In November, the tour van that the California guitarist and songwriter had just bought for her rock trio Covet was hotwired and stolen from the parking lot of an Oakland studio while she was inside recording. This was the cherry on top of a rough summer that included an evidently acrimonious separation from Covet’s longtime bassist David Adamiak, followed by the departure of her longtime drummer Forrest Rice. It might have been enough to throw in the towel, but Young already had big plans. “This is my shot at trying one more time,” she said in a statement announcing Covet’s new rhythm section and their Rebirth tour, which kicked off one week after the van theft. The lineup was armed with several new songs, including the rubber-burning highlight “firebird,” an ode to possibilities named for the first car that Young’s mother bought as an American resident.
New possibilities abound in catharsis, Covet’s inspired third album, and not only in its hopeful sound. In these complex, cross-disciplinary compositions, Young reaches further out for textures and sheens on guitar as ex-drummer Rice and studio bassist Jon Button hold down heavy beats with occasional against-the-grain inflections. They land on an intriguing cocktail with notes of Battles’ cyborg-rock, strained through the guitar-rig obsession of Steve Vai, and—particularly in the wistful opener “coronal,” the lone track featuring new drummer Jessica Burdeaux, as well the only one with lyrics—a little My Bloody Valentine.
Young is a guitar virtuoso with a deep love for post-rock quilts with common colors but clashing patterns, and Covet’s prior albums lived and died by this craft. A twinkling 4/4 groove colliding into one single bar in 11/16, immediately doubling down with seven bars in 5/16, then jumping on a wave of grungy 7/4 and riding it out for two minutes to end an album? Hell yes. But rock music that overvalues complexity can sometimes undervalue the songwriting itself, and this is the issue Covet set out to solve on catharsis, evoking feelings that extend beyond that dizzying rush of math rock.
One of their biggest successes is “bronco,” which flaunts an odd, stutter-stepping guitar effect. When it fires, the song suspends in mid-air for a few ticks before popping right back into the pocket, and there’s a clear moment of relief when the beat picks back up, like rediscovering a lost train of thought. But it’s that stutter that carries the feeling, so instead of plugging it into a time signature that might seem picked out of a hat, “bronco”’s motion answers the sound: Rice and Button manipulate a crunching pace that surrounds Young’s satisfyingly crunchy guitar noise.
At 28 minutes, catharsis is Covet’s shortest LP, and brevity serves it well. With a smaller window, every sudden shift feels that much more exciting. The way the distorted and heavy-footed “coronal” transitions into the sleek and nimble “firebird” feels like it’s been blasted with a power washer. The spare and pretty piano intermission “interlude” offers a respite from the frenzy, while closing track “lovespell” sends the album out sweetly with saxophone played by Alex Rose of Minus the Bear. Most importantly, the sense of intention behind each decision helps Covet dodge the risk of over-noodling. Young is constantly changing gears, but she stitches her routes together with a deft touch that makes the arc feel surprisingly fluid. She navigates these eight songs like an expert traveler in a new city.
