“Big Heart Manners” by Atta Boy

After an eight year hiatus, the once experimental garage-rock band Atta Boy regrouped to produce their sophomore album Big Heart Manners. Combining printmaking, cacti, and ghosts on the cover of their release, needless to say, I was pretty excited to dive into this album. 

In contrast to the sporadic nature of Out of Sorts, their first album, Big Heart Manners looks to tell a streamlined narrative. “Shade” opens the album with a comfortable re-introduction to the band. Warm and reminiscent, listening to this track brings on an atmosphere similar to that of greeting an old friend. The deeper folk roots of the melody protrude like those of an old tree breaking through pavement. Beautiful, yet stubborn and uncontrolled, lyrics such as “shelf life's a century / but it'll take far more time to do as I'm told” push themes of individuality and introduce conflict in the narrative of the album. The subsequent tracks then fight with instances of love and aging told through the folk-like nature common to Atta Boy’s sound. 

Evidently similar to most of the music that sneaks into my discography, this album humors with unrequited love. Conscious of this though, the second track, “Devoted,” makes a note to address the elephant in the room before lunging into familiar blue notes and gentle chromaticism. References to crowded hearts, waiting games, and Irish goodbyes reinforce  both the core of the song and allude to the weathered presence of Eden Brolin, the lead singer. Similar to a scratched record, the cyclical return of the song’s title within the lyrics occurs an uncomfortable number of times, each spanning their own measure. Underlying the song, the raw thumping of a snare drum picks up on this vulnerable atmosphere and patiently taps away as the other elements of the track fade out. While “Devoted” serves as the counterpart to “Shade,” the remaining tracks of this album build on the foundations of these first two. 

“Boxer” offers listeners the first taste of the group’s old music and comes off to me as the most comfortable track on the album. In this active song, Brolin’s vocals freely swing around her love for a humble fighter who only sees her as a friend. Although she sings to the boxer, her words are the ones that hit with jabs while the aforementioned fighter interjects the narrative with gentle direction. “Lucky” again draws on Atta Boy’s earlier discography pulling from tracks such as “Out of Sorts” from their first EP while bending lyrics with the same warm mood found on “Shade.” Additionally, the title drop in the lyrics “your boss at work tells you that you're dumber than dirt / but you got them real big heart manners” casually fills the song with soul. Following the bridge, all members of the band subtly join the chorus in this moving encouragement to go full throttle on embracing one’s self.

I struggled to enjoy “Broke.” Piano ballads are challenging to make interesting, evidently, I found that this one felt flat. Only redeemed by occasional dissonance, all of the elements put forth on “Broke” had stronger presences elsewhere on the album. That said, I found the sampled use of a downpour at the end of “Broke” to transition into “There” rhythmically pleasing and clever in the context of the album’s narrative. Amidst the storm, “There” paints a monochromatic scene only illuminated by the Boxer’s red hands found sheltering in the pockets of Brolin’s coat. Amplifying the warmth of this moment, the passionate energy of the chorus then gives off an early 2000s rock atmosphere and reinvigorates the album with a new sense of purpose. On “Night,” this purpose manifests itself into a lovely experimental sound. For the duration of the track, “Night” fills space with the wash of static coming into focus, a sound similar to scanning on a radio and returning to the same station. 

Both the idea of changing and embracing one’s self are presented on Big Heart Manners. In “Halfway” they’re woven together with themes of resistance and purpose. The borderline-psychedelic guitar riff alongside Brolin repeatedly singing “into a tailspin” at the end of the track claws at a desire to break from this static routine. She takes action, and then she’s gone. As a closing remark, “Madly,” the final track, returns to the tone laid out in “Devoted.” This time, while her longings for affection still preside over the lyrics, they come off as controlled. And then the album speeds to a halt. As if the band all just left the booth, the track goes silent and the space evaporates. 

It took some time for me to dive into Big Heart Manners. After a couple months of on and off listening I’ve found that most every track of this album offers something pleasant that stands authentic to the group. Rather than pretending to be the same individuals who played together in high school, Atta Boy openly presents us with the honest transformation of the band. Whether or not they continue to produce music, I personally feel satisfied with their career as it has occurred.

–Chris Goodall