At the onset of the new single “Animals” by Hidden Beams, the hesitant swing of the percussion induces the sort of anxious feeling that comes with approaching something we’ve dreaded in the back of our minds for ages. The tension is so extreme that it becomes all we can focus on – the piano puncturing the soft seamlessness of the beat with a scowl that eerily resembles that of an executioner, its keys aching in the presence of the percussion as much as our weary bodies will beneath the gaze of a bloodthirsty peanut gallery. Soon this sensation will be replaced with a strange catharsis on the back of a lead vocal, but what it sets forth in the track is inescapable just the same.

WEBSITE: https://www.hiddenbeams.com/

Hidden Beams are modern psychedelic through and through, but there’s a conciseness to the melancholic tones in both the lyrics and the flow of the music here that is above and beyond what a lot of their contemporaries would have employed in a similar release. There’s nothing lazily dragging behind the bassline; synths aren’t bleeding into the harmony nor are we suffocated by the bottom-end’s sway. The vocal is the lone source of fragility, but it’s strong enough to impact every way in which we might interpret the rest of the song.

“Animals” somehow clocks in under three minutes in total length, which ironically sounds about half as long as it feels. The ooze of the instrumentation alone forces us to lose track of time not too long after pressing the play button, and it’s only exacerbated by the vocals’ consistent lack of adherence to the beat of the drum part in the backdrop. It’s hard to tell whether we’re coming or going in this kaleidoscopic trip away from reality, but I think that was the intention here all along.

While I don’t know that Hidden Beams’ music is for everyone, those of us who go out of our way to find stirring psychedelia in all of its varying sonic forms are likely to agree when I call it a legitimate hit for its designer. There’s no holding back from the audience in this performance, but instead a sense of piling everything onto our plates until the kitchen has run out of rich decadence to stuff us with. It’s indulgent and zealously antiestablishment in every department, making it quite the find for a curious indie fan like myself indeed.

John McCall