Santa Cruz

The first song in Santa Cruz, the seventh full-length album from Seattle's Pedro the Lion, paraphrases at least four separate Bible verses. More specifically, singer-songwriter David Bazan speaks in the kind of idioms that anyone who has attended a Wednesday night youth group or summer church camp could relate to immediately. Bazan repeats the lines, “If I make myself friendly/Put the needs of others before my own/Don't let my heart harden,” then ends “Everything's Gonna Be Alright” with a catchphrase: “ Sir. ” If the hymn lyrics, somber synthesizer notes and slow dissonance had not fully portrayed his prayer cry, the picture is complete now.

This has been Bazan's superpower from the beginning. He talks about specific experiences with the necessary references, yet does not alienate the uninitiated. The conflicted Christian, the struggling addict, the anti-corporator, the angry ex, the disillusioned American – all complex viewpoints are vividly inhabited in Pedro the Lion's discography. But since the band returned from a 15-year hiatus in 2019, Bazan has scaled back his framing devices. Phoenix triumphantly began a planned five-album arc, combining big, sonorous guitar chords with tales of formative years spent in the honorable homeland. Three years later, Havasu loosened its grip on theatrical rock to gently explore the thrills and contradictions of being a lonely, god-fearing seventh grader. With Santa CruzBazan brings the theme of life as the preacher's kid whose family moved around a lot into tighter focus.

In just over half an hour, Santa Cruz spans a decade of Bazan's life—from eighth grade to his early 20s, and the four cities he called home during that time. The songs cover impressive ground in painstaking detail, often in just a few minutes. The title track never dips to mid-tempo as Bazan breathlessly recounts his embarrassing backpack, CS Lewis novels and how he can't wait to get married and have sex. He's never sounded so much like Mark Kozelek in his delivery, especially when the overdrive forces him to squeeze in an off-beat line. “Teacher's Pet” jumps from story to story of misadventure while weaving together a gritty ode to teenage rebellion and learning through failure. The Beatles-inspired “Little Help” shares how befriending a church kid and discovering the White album gave him confidence among the surfers and skaters of a California beach town.

Santa Cruz it's full of memories, musings and personality, like a well-used diary covered in old stickers. But where the lyrics and themes are consistently charming, the music always isn't. Bazan often uses synths in the covers, and their presence on some of the best songs is refreshing: Frustrated and disappointed, “Don't Cry Now” revolves around a chunky arpeggio that – somewhat unbelievably – sounds like it's from an old Junior single Boys. The pounding keys and hushed guitar on album standout “Tall Pines,” so restrained at first, burst out to envelop Bazan's unflinchingly measured performance like a sudden mist. “Parting,” however, is as average and generic as Pedro the Lion's indie rock—unfortunate, given the touching story of a high school student whose parents move once again, leaving him to finish out the year in Seattle. At least when the music is less than exciting, there's always a heartwarming story to follow.