“Creature Of Habit” (Mom + Pop Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
“Over-analyze my dreams
and pick apart the seams
always working from the same old pattern,
soon as you pull the string,
well, that’s when everything
begins a bigger mess unravelling.”
That’s Courtney Barnett feeling overwhelmed on “One Thing At A Time,” a cut from her newest album, Creature Of Habit.”
Singer-songwriter Courtney Barnett seemingly burst on the music scene back in 2013. The Australian native first garnered attention when her early EPs were gathered together on vinyl and CD as The Double EPs: A Sea Of Split Peas. The collection included her breakout single, “Avant Gardener,” which had already astounded fans and critics alike. Her laconic Australian drawl lined up with pithy lyrics and sly melodies. Music mags were quick to declare her the “Next Big Thing,” comparing her to everyone from Bob Dylan to Liz Phair to Pavement. In reality, her subtle, smartass sound was a potent combo-platter of Indie Pop, Folk and Psychedelia.
In 2015, she followed up with her first official long-player, Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Think. Three years later she returned with Tell Me How You Really Feel and 2021 saw the release of Things Take Time, Take Time. Somehow during this era, she also found time to collaborate with Indie darling Kurt Vile on their 2017 effort, Lotta Sea Lice. Her 2023 instrumental score, End Of The Day accompanied the film Anonymous Club, coincidently a documentary about Courtney herself. Following the documentary, she experienced a bit of a sea change and contemplated quitting music altogether. She ended up shuttering Milk! Records, the label she started with ex-girlfriend, Jen Cloher. In recent interviews she said she felt “It was time to put 100% of her efforts into writing music,” rather than running a business. She relocated to Los Angeles and then rented a place in Joshua Tree, so she could shut out the world and concentrate on making new music. Armed with a few unfinished songs, she booked time at Rancho de La Luna recording studio and the result is her long-awaited fourth album, Creature Of Habit.
The opening couple of tracks deliver a one-two punch. “Stay In Your Own Lane” snap-crackles and pops with authority. Fuzz-crusted rhythm guitar, sparkly lead licks and buzzy bass lines are anchored by a twitchy trap-kit beat. Fever-dream lyrics find our Courtney in the midst of an existential crisis: “I know you’re tryna help me, I know you’re tryna help me, I know you’re tryna help me, feels like I’m going backwards, each day I preach my practice, and still it seems I wasn’t ready for this.” As the arrangement accelerates, the melodic velocity ratchets up the anxiety: “There’s blood on my favorite t-shirt, I don’t know if this is working, cause now I’m dreaming of the worst case/best case, feel like a fish on a hook, I’m crying like a child would, and now I’m here, I might as well just go through with it…this never would’ve happened if I stayed in my lane, stayed the same way.” Staccato guitar punctuates every verse. By the break skittery rhythm riffs collide with sweet and sour lead notes.
As the first track skids to a halt, it feels as though an imaginary radio dial has been flipped, landing on the sunny “Wonder.” Courtney’s trademark droll delivery is matched by lithe guitars, lanky bass, dazzling backing vocals and a loping beat. Caustic lyrics take a duplicitous frenemy to task: “And I wonder what you say when I’m not around, yeah, I wonder what you say when I’m not around, we say ‘sick of this, sick of that,’ easier to complain than to think about all the cracks in the back of my head, back of my head.” Shimmering guitars take it to the bridge, which offers a moment of détente: “I don’t want to waste away, sitting here and overthinking, maybe on another day, we’ll be in another place to talk about it.”
On this new one, Courtney adds some new colors to her sonic paintbox. Take “Same” which finds hollowed-out guitar and wiry bass lines wed to a clanky, industrial beat. As lyrics attempt to take some emotional inventory, she still manages to deftly reference epochal songs from Ani DiFranco and Jackson Browne’s classic canons: “I’m ‘Outta Range,’ I’m ‘Running On Empty,’ drifting in and out of a phase, second-guess every word I say, but I’ll fake it another day.” Icy, New Wave synths accentuate each insecure verse.
Then there’s the blurry riff-age, fringed bass lines and slinky click-track beat that cocoons “Sugar Plum.” Courtney’s drowsy demeanor belie lyrics that split the difference between introspective and confessional, reflecting her recent move to L.A.: “First thought, I heard it all before, not going to get far with an attitude like that, it’s hard to break a habit when it’s just so comfortable, and I don’t know anybody round here, I sincerely hope to settle in, let’s not make a big thing about it.” As the arrangement gently speed-shifts, she acknowledges her foibles with her signature wry wit: “And they say make hay while the sun shines, but sometimes I wanna just lay around, read a book, eventually forget about everything, I’m in over my head, yeah, I’m in over my head, I’m in over my head, yeah I’m in over my head/And I know I got a sensitive heart, I’m always picking it apart when I throw it to the vultures, they don’t want it either, probably too sincere.” By the song’s swoony crescendo, she’s found her sea legs.
Meanwhile, on “Site Unseen,” vroom-y guitars collide with dreamy keys, fluid bass and a stutter-step beat, as she duets with Waxahatchee (ne’ Katie Crutchfield). Their soral harmonies intertwine as lyrics wobble with uncertainty: “Falling in and out of time today, questioning all the choices that I ever made, letting go of everything that might’ve been, and if we like it here, we’ll stay another year, site unseen, I promise Babe, let’s figure out the rest another day. A familiar chord progression catapults the chorus, momentarily recalling the James Taylor deep cut “Suite For 20g.” Further in, a meandering guitar solo on the break ushers in a new sense of resolve: “From now on, I wanna finish what I start and that indecision’s never been of much help to me, and it won’t take long until I get my head together, either way, why don’t we stay awhile and see, stay awhile and see, stay awhile and see, stay awhile.”
The best tracks hopscotch across the record, beginning with “Mostly Patient.” The bare-bones arrangement is down to sun-dappled electric guitar and Courtey’s winsome vocals. Introspective lyrics unspool as an inner-monologue drills down on feelings of vulnerability: “What’s inside that cloudy little head, c’mon, won’t you stretch it out, afraid they’ll really see ya and figure what you’re all about, everybody knows you’re as perfect as the weather on the ground, you don’t see that though, you’re so busy on your own little cloud.” A flange-y guitar solo on the break seems to lessen the angst. She perks up a bit on the chorus: “Sometimes impatient, but mostly patient, I see you waiting for things to change, outside it’s raining, precipitating, I know you’re aching for brighter days.” A rambling guitar outro underscores the shakiness of this emotional seesaw.
Flipping the script, “Great Advice” finds Courtney enduring some unsolicited recommendations through gritted teeth. Skronky guitars ride roughshod over rawboned bass, sand-blasted keys and a jittery beat. Her sardonic rejoinder tests the limits of tact: “Appreciate your great advice, but I don’t want to do my hair all nice, I like it this way, I like it this way, I don’t wanna give you a piece of my mind, I gotta lotta things to do I gotta maximize my time, I like it this way, I like it this way.” If only there was a single-syllable slogan to silence all of this well-intentioned concern: “Catchphrase, there’s gotta be a better way, for what I wanna say.” The lean, unfussy arrangement is buoyed by a prickly guitar on the break. Punky and angular, veers closer to Gang Of Four than Bob Dylan.
On the aforementioned “One Thing At A Time,” nimble guitar licks lattice acrid bass lines, surreptitious keys and a kick-drum beat. Lyrics chronicle the inevitable panic that sets in when it feels as though life is closing in on you: “Oh my God, just one thing at a time, don’t get why it’s so hard to find, some peace and quiet swimming in my mind, oh my God and I’m ready for a change, ready for a change.” Following the bridge, Courtney unleashes an epic solo. Down-stroke, distorto guitars shape-shift into a soaring AOR-ish ascent that parallels the lyrics’ seismic, soul-searching ache. The guitars ebb and flow for another two minutes, never wearing out their welcome.
Finally, “Mantis” is the record’s piece de resistance. Faint, faraway notes slowly unfold as a muffled backbeat and Waspish guitars eventually accelerate, like a dusty desert breeze on a hot and desolate day. Lyrically, life seems to have finally snapped into focus, and to paraphrase a famous author, Courntney begins to play it as it lays: “I am exercising how good it feels to be alive and no surprises up my sleeve, everything is temporary, ooh, Praying Mantis on my door, looking for meaning or just any sign at all, Ooh, organizing my thoughts, making them rhyme, choosing wisely where I spend my time.” Fluttery Omnichord runs dovetail with whip-smart guitar riffs before Courtney offers up an epiphany of sorts: “Give me midnight love again, feeling somewhat alien, I’m floating aimless but I got my feet, concreted beneath this creature of habit, teach me the magic of an extra-ordinary day, anodyne the time away, and there’s no such thing as a perfect melody, but I keep searching every morning in the trees.” On the final verse as she assures us “I’ve got everything sorted,” celestial synths wrap around a tumbling back-beat, spatial guitars and brisk bass lines. An extended guitar coda wah-wahs alongside some whiz-bang bass, ushering this slice of cosmic exhale to a close.
The sun sets with “Another Beautiful Day.” Flick-o-the-wrist guitar sync up with noodling bass on the first verse and chorus. Then the band kicks in, locking into a kaleidoscopic groove. Corkscrew guitars oscillate wildly, bookended by sly bass lines, slippery piano and a hiccoughing beat. Courtney waxes um, cautiously optimistic. As vocals stack, she vows to get out of her own way and seize the day: “Now every time you look at me, look at me, I try to save that somewhere in my memory, yeah, every time you look at me, look at me, I don’t want to lose that feeling/Reborn every morning, still somehow getting older, lost in time, I hope I might see you on the other side.” A sprawling guitar solo (wo)man-spreads across the break. Like a mantra, like a prayer she repeats “another beautiful day, just another beautiful day.” A final guitar solo uncoils with a serpentine intensity, striking and retreating before powering down to a few sugary chords and shadowy keys that drift off into the ether.
A solo record in name only, Courtney is ably supported by her touring band, which features bassist Bones Sloane on bass, bass synthesizer and Wurlitzer and Stella Mozgawa (best known as the drummer for Warpaint), on drums, percussion, bass, piano, synths, bass synthesizer and Omnichord. She received some superstar assists from Zach Dawes (Mini Mansions and The Last Shadow Puppets), British EDM producer/DJ, Floating Points, as well as legendary Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist, Flea. Courtney tackles guitars, bass, drum programming and Wurlitzer. Production chores were handled by Courtney, Stella and John Congleton (Phoebe Bridgers, The Mountain Goats, Brian Wilson).
Creature Of Habit is anything but. Deliberately shifting away from her comfort zones, this record finds Courtney focused and re-energized. She happily colors outside the lines and blurs musical boundaries, but maintains her signature wit and droll delivery.
