Foamboy. It's an extremely amusing name for a band. It brings to mind some kind of gross Garbage Pail Kid-inspired children's toy from the '80s that dissolves in the tub and produces a bloom of green suds, or the nickname a teenage otaku would give to her Aki Hayakawa print, body-length pillowcase that she is presently using to sheathe a slab of memory foam. The Portland band have no relation in actuality to either of these overly specific byproducts of my overly active bio-neuro-mesh, and are, instead, simply an indie-pop duo consisting of producer Wil Bakula and vocalist Katy Ohsiek. My Sober Daydream is their second LP, released in 2021, and it's pretty good. Good enough to write home about, at least. Although, I'm not sure anyone from my hometown reads this blog (and that's for the best). On this LP, Foamboy are reminiscent of what Cat Power might emerge from the studio sounding like if she handed the reigns of her next album over to Flying Lotus. Maybe not quite that experimental, but within the margin of error. Soft, purring vocals batting at and winding around fluttery synths and gut-puckering bass lines. Percolating sonic recoils that leap through blazing, halo-shaped harmonics like a leopard chasing a springbok made of starlight. Slices of life, juiced, pulped, cooled, and served like a frothy midafternoon treat that conquers the summer swelter as soon as it encounters your pursed lips. Rivulets of neon fusion funk extending through a midnight calm and over an invisible slope to intertwine in a barber's pole-like motion of leisurely, seductive, cyclonic bliss. A respite of clean, cotton-soft vibes that you can sprawl over in absolute indulgence as if you've landed ass-first on an edible couch made of perfectly-puffed marshmallows that light up like LEDs at your touch. Sober Daydreams have rarely been more intoxicating than this.
