After Apollo Sunshine called it quits in 2009, it looked like Yellowbirds would become Sam Cohen’s solo outlet. But after that project became a real band and then similarly dispersed last year, Cohen decided to release music under his given name for the first time. Though he plays just about all the instruments on Cool It, the sound is right in line with those two Yellowbirds releases. Gone are vestiges of the rootsiness Apollo Sunshine incorporated in early albums and the kitchen-sink aesthetic the band explored on parting shot Shall Noise Upon. With Yellowbirds and now this solo release, Cohen has settled comfortably into vintage, sunny psychedelia.
Cohen frequently lends his guitar skills to other artists (Bob Weir, Cee-Lo), so it’s not surprising that his six-string work steals the show here. Subtle synth washes provide atmosphere, but it’s the guitars—whether chiming, fuzzy, or processed to sound like a synthesizer—that supply the hooks and textures. Meanwhile, Cohen’s steady voice—like an American Lennon with some Dylan affectations—keeps it all casual. He’s content to let his music float by breezily, radiating warm and pleasant vibes. There’s always been a certain nonchalance to Cohen’s presence on record, and the chill-out feelings here are as chill as ever.
That comfy passivity lines up with Cohen’s songwriting. A song about mountains becomes less about climbing and more of an ode to inaction on leadoff track, "Let the Mountain Come to You". And "Midnight Conqueror", despite the emboldened title, is actually about how it’s OK to go to bed angry or worried or indecisive. "Sleep on it, baby," Cohen sings. "Wait for the morning, let the night decide." Even when he’s down and out, Cohen takes it all in stride. "Right now I feel lonely… but pretty soon I’ll be in love again," he sings on "Last Dream".
Not that there’s no struggle. The songs convey a sense of yearning for some alternate reality or paradisiacal afterlife—a place where "trees don’t shake their heads in sorrow and nobody shakes in fear when they think about tomorrow." That longing is key to the record. It’s what makes you realize Cohen cares about what he’s singing and that he wants something more, even if, on the surface, it doesn’t look like much is going on. On closing track "El Dorado", the sky turns red and rains for 100 years, but in Cohen’s mind, this is no Michael Bay movie. "No one’s saying shit, it’s quieted down," he sings, "and the gate’s wide open."
While there’s rarely an inopportune time to put on a record that can transport you to a hazy weekend afternoon in the summer, Cohen’s consistency veers into predictability. Cool It is psychedelic, but it lacks the trippy surprises that the signifier implies. The most unexpected and memorable moments come from "The Garden", a bass-led groove that begins with Cohen standing in a garden, waiting for the rain. It’s a Friday, and he’s drinking a few beers ("beeeeeeers," his most Dylan-esque moment) while his band rehearses for a Sunday gig, the same one they’ve played for the past six years: "We practice in a two-car garage, smoke around the kids." Cohen sings of the children inhaling the adults’ fumes ("They’re gonna learn it someday"), then follows it up with the ultimate Sam Cohen existential shrug: "If someday ever is."
