Chris DeLine

Throughout the course of The Postmarks’ self titled debut the question of whether the group’s French-pop overtones are smoothly beautiful or agonizingly painful becomes an overt one. The vocals of singer Tim Yehezkely are so stunningly sweet that even the album’s most downtrodden of songs, such as “Leaves,” come off as something similar to pack of Sour Patch Kids laced with nicotine, sickly sweet though achingly addictive.

With the hope that the comparison doesn’t dissuade anyone The Postmarks seem like a pop-focused act inspired by the popularity of Norah Jones. On the same hand, the wicked reminiscence that occurs when listening to The Postmarks is something entirely different and refreshing. The group doesn’t leap into contemporary jazz nor does it suggest that there is a harder music bubbling below the surface of the album, waiting to be heard.

The previously mentioned French-pop suggestion is strongly heard in the album’s opening track, and first single, “Goodbye” as well as “Let Go.” But the group initially branded itself as something far more distinct with its remix EP that featured the tracks produced by Spookey Ruben, Brookville and James Iha. The downfall of the EP was that it suggested the group was something far from what they were. The EP attempted to deliver a more experimental brand of music while in fact The Postmark’s comfortable style is anything but.

As the song “Watercolors” uncoils “no umbrellas keep out this rain, no soft clouds cushion my pain,” the song suggesting that there is forever something deeper, something haunting within the music that never sees the light of day. That content discomfort allows the sound to convey itself so clearly, and throughout the clarity of the songs suggest that the band is as smoothly beautiful as it sounds.

[This post was first published by Culture Bully.]