Plush
Pine

THE REVIEW

You know that sun that splits your head in two?

You know how hot it gets, so high, that you sweat in the shade?

And in the shade, smoking your first joint, coughing harshly, rolling your eyes until your vision blurs?

This is Pine by Plush, a distant dream, perhaps of the sea, definitely of the sun, maybe of sadness, but certainly of warmth. An old melancholy that continually surfaces anew, until it ends after just under 23 minutes.

Remember your first crush in middle school? It's not here!

Remember the first concert you attended? It's not for you!

Remember that gray-asphalt school that reminded you so much of your dad's factory, where his tiredness could give something to the little you?

If I think intensely, I can sense that my Veneto, which I loved so much, which I hated so much, is nothing but a big industry. Gray, it remains gray, black as tar and white as milk, sweet and bitter, but still mine, industrious and industrial, but here I digress.

The album is melancholic, with a sad almost bitter happiness, there’s nothing industrial, but you can find some noisepop, some dreamy, some surf reminiscences, and some indie.

An album not to be underestimated but to be listened to.