NYC alt-rock trio breaks down their excellent debut LP
NYC trio Pocket Protector have spent the better part of 2019 cutting their teeth out on the indie live circuit and working on the material that now comprises their first full-length, Room on Pacific. Impose is bringing you the premiere of the whole she-bang here today.
Across the eight tracks, Pocket Protector explore themes of hope and hopelessness, looking back and forward and that all-around inflection point that comes as you take stock of your situation for the umpteenth time. Maybe, this time, you’ll get the breakthrough you’re looking for, or finally realize it’s a never-ending endeavor.
With whip-smart lyrics from frontperson Joe Reichel, Pocket Protector craft peaks and plain of contemplation with warm melodies ala R.E.M. on their more plaintive, pondering tracks, or straight fuzzy rippers on the other side of their spectrum. Put Room on Pacific on repeat today.
To celebrate the release of the band’s debut, we had Reichel break it down for us track-by-track. Listen to Pocket Protector’s Room on Pacific in full and catch them at Pine Box Rock Shop in Brooklyn, NY on September 28th.
“The Dutch Angle” - Getting a job gives you plenty of time to fantasize about doing literally anything else.
“Chasing Auras ” – The playground in my hometown that I refer to actually did burn down, and now it’s rebuilt and looks completely different. Not made out of wood anymore, for starters.
“Groundhog Day (1993)” - Literally a plot synopsis of the beloved Bill Murray film, but as a metaphor for fearing the hard work involved in self-improvement.
“Blue Shell” - What do you do upon realizing you’re not that good at the only thing you thought you were good at? Have an existential crisis, obviously.
“Citronella ” – This is another rumination on stagnation and isolation.
“ Driving Back/Minimum Wage” - Being on tour is really great because it affords a certain freedom from anxiety that I can’t find at home in New York.
“ With Regards to Evan, and the Righteous Might of the Universe ” – I had a friend. I lost a friend. I learned almost nothing. Rinse, repeat, die.
