When they formed in 2011, TOPS were among a crop of Montréal indie bands involved with Arbutus Records, a label that came into prominence after releasing Grimes’ early albums and co-releasing 2012 breakout Visions with 4AD. Following Grimes’ success, watchful eyes turned their sights to her peers, looking to crack the code in the city’s scene. Among their compatriots—Blue Hawaii, Sean Nicholas Savage, Braids, and Majical Cloudz—TOPS were the most aligned to conventional notions of rock and pop, a throwback AM-rock band amid a sea of indie-tronica. Their fuzzy, honey-dipped songs were straight out of the school of Fleetwood Mac and Mazzy Star: eminently listenable, easy to digest, romantic, and catchy. For their third record, Sugar at the Gate, the band relocated to Los Angeles and recorded at a former brothel in Jewel City. Sugar at the Gate mirrors this sordid and light-filled clime—which is wholly appropriate for a band that has always been a lot sunnier than the city they hail from.
TOPS is anchored by the singer Jane Penny, whose voice embodies the deep nostalgia that the band’s music projects. Something about her style feels anachronistic—contemporary rock music always draws on previous eras, be it 1990s indie or 1980s punk, but rarely do singers have such a vintage warmth. Her soprano luxuriates in its own imperfections, and some sly production allows it to sound fuzzy and blown out, mimicking the feeling of a cassette you found at a garage sale. In fact, the whole album bears this considered lo-fi sound: like vaseline rubbed along a camera’s lens to give a photo an old-timey aesthetic, the songs on Sugar at the Gate are perfectly old feeling. Take, for example, “Petals”—with its strutting guitar riffs, sweet choruses, and rinky-dink synths, it would not have sounded out of place on drive-time soft-rock radio circa 1977. It’s the kind of rock song that would be perfect for a David Lynch film, smokey and slightly kitschy—absolutely redolent of the past.
If anything, Sugar at the Gate represents the perfection of a formula; TOPS are workmanlike in their insistent repetition. It’s hard to distinguish one song from the next, and instead they flow into each other like syrup falling from a glass bottle. This is in part due to David Carriere’s impossibly catchy guitar riffs and Riley Fleck’s understated drumming. In tandem, the two create a plush atmosphere for Penny’s singing. Carriere’s guitar lines are simple and well-executed—generous in their grooves, but filled with static, recalling Jim Reid at one moment and Lee Ranaldo the next. This especially evident on songs like “Dayglo Bimbo,” which channel Sonic Youth at their poppiest.
But Sugar at the Gate proves that TOPS are not out to reinvent the wheel. Lyrically, none of the lines Penny and Carriere write are all that memorable. Even in surreal moments (“I was hypnotized by why/We could not kill the light”), they mostly kowtow to convention (“It’s time to start again/I know I’ll never win”), writing standard-fare love songs. What sets TOPS apart is their consistency—across three records, they've sharpened their clean hooks and clarified their aesthetic—making soft rock songs that sound good on repeat. Overall, Sugar at the Gate is a compact record from a band chugging along smoothly, unspooling sweet rhythms like it is finally their job.
