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Between 2007 and 2013, there was a Los Angeles-based band called Chris and Mollie who were one of the many, many unknown names in underground music. Consisting of lead vocalist and guitarist Chris Donlon and drummer Molly Hagar, their style of music back then was best described as jangle pop with a bit of tweeness and psychedelia thrown into the mix. With next to noise being made from even indie-specialised sites like Pitchfork, the band languished underneath the successes of contemporaries like Vampire Weekend, MGMT, or Alvvays. While those bands went on to become household names, Chris and Mollie went stagnant after their second album in 2012’s Get Buried which saw the change in name to the Creepy Crawlies after recruiting two more members. The decade afterwards saw next to no release for all the compliments from Consequence and No Ripcord.

Now, this is one of the handful of albums that I first heard of through Reddit with a tag that indicates that it’s made by the original poster. By the time Weeds finally got its feet off the ground for a release, everyone except Chris Donlon had moved on with their lives outside of music. The frontman had settled down with a wife while he moved toward an enjoyable career as an editor for numerous films and television shows which include Biosphere and Somebody Somewhere. Chances are, if you were to hear of his name before, it’s more than likely due to his editing from a handful of credits. Now, this is another side of him that you might not know of. The music geek side which sees him tinkering with songwriting and instruments. In the notes on the album, Donlon said that Weeds was inspired largely through what he feels to be a transformative phase in his adulthood – “friends were moving away, a relationship was dissolving, […] I see it as a portrait of someone in a kind of self-imposed exile, lost in the thicket.”

If you’re hoping that most of the album is made up of inventive production given Donlon’s career, keep your expectations low. The general sound of the album carries on the same tinge of innocence that its predecessors did. You can sense that in ‘Yolk of Love’ and ‘Further from the Fairytale’ with its high-tempo rhythms and lyrical focus on romance and escapism. Its emphasis on punchy guitar riffs and layered vocal harmonies does lend credence towards the surf rock-influenced Girls or Real Estate. Yet, some of the reverbs and exciter effect paves the way towards alternative rock’s more artsy experimentations as felt in ‘Every Little Thing’ or ‘Deal of the Century’. They might not have worked like complete masterpieces, but 

With that being said, there’s a greater emphasis placed on the lyrical dissonance between the jovial instrumentals and the self-deprecating, thoughtful themes about loneliness. Between ‘Yolk of Love’’s breakup and ‘Further from the Fairytale’’s sheltered presentation, this is best kicked off in the intro track ‘Frozen Lake’. the acoustic strums and upbeat keyboards, all done in major notes, stand in contrast with lines like “Even when the stars align / I disconnect them every time”, After all, what’s a greater sign of confidence than to become completely introverted and stay away from all social contact in the face of mental crisis? 

The likes of ‘Evil Twin’, ‘Crown’, and ‘Reality Bureau’ respectively deal with self-loathing, pride, and depression which, for the most part, lacks a certain nuance to make itself insightful. They don’t necessarily have the most evocative phrasings nor do they have a certain unconventionality in their subject matter nor do they even have a certain melancholia in their songwriting. Yet, the drought in being a master at literacy, philosophising, or technicality doesn’t necessarily mean that it offers little. The reality is that these weaknesses do point towards a genuine sense of being lonely. Its flaws could just as easily be the album’s greatest strength once you put into perspective the context around the Creepy Crawlies’ downfall. 

Going from a fully fledged band to being a one-man passion project over the past decades would’ve messed up anyone regardless of whether they aspire to be a musician or not. It’s this fact which makes you think a lot more about the production and the ways that it shaped much of the unsatisfying instrumental performances throughout the album. The drumming doesn’t feel like there’s much variety in them, the guitarworks doesn’t tug your heart as much as it could’ve, and the bassline doesn’t vibe as hard as you would’ve liked. However, the subtext of being a lone wolf after your friend group had died off makes for an interesting, if tragic, concept to build Weeds around. Any one of these problems could’ve been solved had Hagar or the others opt to stick around even if that might mean waiting for a while before starting the recording session.

When we get to the title track as the denouement, the main focus lies on existential crisis. What might’ve been a peek into secrecy and duality was cut short by the feeling of insignificance. “No vacancy / No shelter to seek / I’m still here / In the weeds / Are you as confused as me?” cried Donlon as the second half of the chorus which feels reminiscent of a typical young adult’s anxieties. Sure, he might not have that nerdiness that makes the Dismemberment Plan so lovable, the gruffled wit of the Wrens, or the hook-filled machine in Weezer. These shouldn’t deter the very reality that Donlon is in many ways as human as we do and deserves all the empathy he could get for his feeling of alienation. Weeds is by and large a nice, albeit unextraordinary, listen which encourages you to think about what it means to never have someone to share your feelings with. 

John Donlon, I don’t know if you’re reading this article as of right now. However, if you do, I hope that you could get a chance to get the gang together and do a short tour every once in a while, even if it’s just as a bit of a break from work. Your work might not be the best of its kind, but it excels in one area that many artists fail to achieve – and that is honesty.

3.3/5