Peter Sagar first made a name for himself as the nimble-fingered touring guitarist for indie slacker idol Mac DeMarco. As a solo singer-songwriter, he creates music that (spiritually, at least) follows a similar path to that of the scruffy, weed-loving, chill-as-hell DeMarco. But whereas DeMarco espouses goofy, psych-influenced slacker-rock, Sagar’s muse is a bit more subtle, as evidenced by the lazy, delectable, discreetly funky electronica (often erroneously classified as “bedroom R&B”) that has become his trademark.
Sagar proves himself a master of that craft on Fresh Air, his fourth opus under the nom-de-stage Homeshake. For each of the album’s 12 tracks (bookended by two short instrumentals), he crafts a gorgeous melody and plays it on a loop, letting it soak into your brain until it permeates your entire psyche. The album plays much like a series of vignettes, offering intimate glimpses into the life of a young person who keeps regularly stoned on both love and other substances – and all the complicated emotions and relationship snags that accompany that life. Sagar soundtracks it all with a winning combination of quiet-storm instrumentals, bargain-bin yacht-soul synthesizers, and his lethargic, slightly strained falsetto (which sounds like a cross between the Revolution’s Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman and a more reserved, balladeering Prince). As he has on past releases, he effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between deep soul and incredible restraint. He incorporates styles of the past into his own distinct sound without merely borrowing them or resorting to pastiche or cliché.
The album opens with smooth, chill guitar grooves over a light and wispy synthetic beat as automated voices (literally) welcome the listener to the forthcoming experience. Then the percussion of “Call Me Up” starts its clicking and clapping, and Sagar instantly unleashes an irresistibly ethereal atmosphere driven by a woozy synth hook. “I can feel the pain within you,” he softly observes. “It’s turning your insides out/And filling you up with doubt.” The track depicts an idyllic young romance, wherein the two lovers are so connected that a sort of telepathy develops between them, and they each know how the other feels even when they’re in separate rooms.
Would that all human relationships were so simple. Throughout Fresh Air, Sagar navigates the troubled seas of interpersonal hecticism as he alternates between party-hopping and hanging at home, indulging in God’s sweet leaf. He rejects the advances of an unrequited lover over loop-de-looping synths on “Not U” (“Staring daggers, like you think that it could change a thing…Hope that this will be the last time that I hear from you”). The uptempo R&B jam “Every Single Thing” portrays a severe strain in communication, with bleak airport-terminal tones and striking chord changes accentuating the drama (“Thought it’d be easier/For me to think of her/I was dreaming when you spoke and not listening to you”). As many of us (Sagar, it seems, very much included) know well, it’s not easy to be a lover in this modern age of distraction, confusion, and uncertainty – and yet, we keep trying our best anyway.
Fresh Air also finds Sagar routinely demonstrating that he can establish tone and mood with the very best of them. “Getting Down Pt. II (He’s Cooling Down),” with its gently buzzing bassline and whispery drums, sounds not far removed from a Voodoo-era D’Angelo jam. On “Timing,” he uses a chilly minor-key synthscape to evoke the supreme ennui of his loneliness while whiling away the hours until his s/o returns home. As the weirded-out, glitchy outro sets in, we as listeners come to the consensus that lazing around the house has never been – and may never again be – this gorgeously dramatic.
It’s the second half of the album, however, where we start to behold the true depths of Sagar’s mastery as a musician and arranger. He’d like us to think he’s not even trying – the breezy grace of his arrangements certainly make it seem so – but deep down, he’s a fussy sonic perfectionist, striving to find the exact right combinations of sounds to illustrate the moods he envisions.
Pretty much any song on Fresh Air could qualify as a standout track, but high among the ranks stands “TV Volume,” which finds Sagar’s guitar purring funkily over a razor-sharp groove, the drums repeatedly start-stopping in time. It’s a subtle, sensual kick in the ass that’s so understated, it’s almost devastating. Immediately succeeding this quiet beauty is yet another standout, the robotic, pure-sex-exuding “Khmlwugh.” Descending chromatic synths hover atop steadily tiptoeing bass and a clap-trap beat as Sagar unfurls his mantra of “kissing, hugging, making love and waking up and getting high.”
And so the magnificent sonic journey continues to its serene end. The title track, a subdued, six-minute slow jam, is colored by sweet, silky guitar strums over the faint sound of a swirling wind. “So She” sounds more than a little like 50s/60s lounge-pop with a dash of bossa nova, like something Stevie Wonder, Caetano Veloso, Astrud Gilberto and Fagen & Becker might record after smoking a few together in the studio. Closer “This Way” is Sagar at his most unabashedly yacht-rock; he croons about chilling out at home with his main squeeze as shivery percussion and delicate, goofy “night-life” keys that rather deliberately recall Paul Davis’ “I Go Crazy” meander in the foreground. It’s a great summation of what Sagar does best – using snippets of the past as a soundtrack for snapshots of the present. “Come and sit and stay a while,” he breathes. “You can relax, it’s me/Feeling slippers on the frozen tile/So cold, living comfortably…”
The charm of Sagar’s scrappy yet immaculate concoctions is boundless – simple elements are expertly combined to form something truly grand. He weaves magical, intimate universes out of his guitars and synths, creating a listening experience that’s equal parts soothing and compelling. It’s certain to serve as the backdrop to a THC-haze-coated makeout sesh between young hipsters – and I mean that as the highest possible praise. Here’s to Homeshake’s most thrilling and intoxicating effort yet, and here’s to the further sonic triumphs certain to form in its wake. (8.6/10)