There was always that one guy in every high school class who seemed para-naturally talented when it came to instruments your parents might actually foot the bill for you to learn. That dude could sit in front of any piano and patter out an original melody. They somehow were both a first chair in flute and violin in the school orchestra. And goddammit, if he couldn't sing too.
Inevitably, the rock band this guy would eventually form with his friend from debate club and the other guy whose parent's basement was one, cohesive, and permanent Warhammer 40,000 battlefield would usually sound like a professional grade-grafting of Ben Folds's sensibilities onto Paul McCartney's more forgettable '90s and '00s solo work... maybe that was your bag, but it was over my head when I was 17. Also, I didn't like that guy in high school because he was smart and talented, and I was... well, anyway.
Based solely on the vibe I get off his Sand (and other mysteries) LP, I feel confident in declaring that Ok Glass was THAT guy. He is young and charismatic. He has a smooth and inoffensive voice with a slight nasal register. And he has an agile sense of melody and a solid grasp of music fundamentals which he channels through a remarkably broad array of instrumentation with equal measures of flamboyance and irony.
Contrary to my previous statements, though, I like Ok Glass and his album quite a bit. Sand has an absurdity and forcefulness that is both campy and deadpan- sort of like a Terry Gilliam film, but in this case, clearly not made by an insane person. Although, Ok Glass does make some jokes on this album that are in poor enough taste that their premise could have been established by a throwaway line from a John Waters script. Let's examine Exhibit A, a jaunty number about celebrating Christmas by building a car bomb ("Christmas Car Bomb"), or Exhibit B, an accordion accompanied reel of accusations and personal beefs that play out through the ephemera of InfoWars-esque conspiracy theories ("Chemtrail Mist").
The absurdity also manifests in ways that your homeroom teacher would have probably approved of as well, such as the AP History distrack "The Delano Lies In Wait," which is a minute and fifty seconds during which the specter of FDR is raised in order to dab on the legacies of Calvin Coolidge and Herbert Hoover. However, most of the subject matter on Sand is cotted into the realm of perpendicular existential apprehension and manifestations of drizzling dread, which makes tracks like the cow-bell accented soft-shoe "Karma Camel," the whistling prayer for death "Ripcord," and the use of mindless eating machines and pests as metaphors for the entirety of the human condition on "Bagworm" disquieting listens despite their superficially jovial demeanor.
This is the aspect that continues to have a hold on me when it comes to Sand though. The album is gorgeously composed and performed by someone who clearly has some formal training and conventional talent, but whose skills are deployed in service of pure mischief. But that mischief is what carries my attention from beginning to end. The fact that it can be very dark mischief is all the better.
Sand does have quite a few aspects to hit that can't help but feel familiar, but it isn't reducible to the cultural pairings that it rhymes with. The acrobatic pop sensibilities and preference for antiquated sounds feel comparable to the experimental sojourns of They Might be Giants, and the devious lexiconical ploys contrasted with a reliance on melodic formalism raises the heckle of Lemon Demon, but Ok Glass is too effortlessly malignant and comfortable traversing the tragedies of life for comparisons to such wholesome actors to stick.
Sand is Ok Glass's exclusive psychic domain, a castle made of howling panic and punk rock satire that is sturdy despite the granularity of its segmented structure. It might look like sponge cake from the outside, but once you get close enough, you'll find that it is made of a greedy wall of quicksand that will suck you into its frame like small fish snared by a jellyfish, and will detain you within its flesh until you either suffocate or manage to claw and chew your way out. Either way, Sand will always be a part of you afterward... or maybe you'll always be a part of it. Cue thunderclap and mirthless laughter.
Seriously though, Ok Glass rules, alright.
