On Gypsum’s website, they refer to themselves as “a polyrhythmic, riff-driven post-rock band” that draws from “a wide array of influences, including folk, prog, R&B and psych rock.” The press release for their debut album also mentions “classic-sounding shoegaze” acts like “Cocteau Twins, Throwing Muses, and Lush.” That’s quite a litany, and it might betray a bit of an identity crisis. But lucky for Gypsum, this record is tight and focused, offering up a fresh sound that actually makes those comparisons make sense.

Guitars are lithe and slinky, dancing between off-time arpeggios under a thick coat of atmospheric reverb. The bass and drums are tight and funky, punching through syncopated grooves no matter how ethereal the songs get. The vocals, provided by all three members, are lush and inviting, shored by constant harmonies a la Simon & Garfunkel or the Beach Boys. 

The almost telepathic interplay between the three women is testament to the origins of the group, which started as a weekly low-stakes jam session several years ago before establishing a formal project. This might be their debut, but the years of experience playing together is evident on the tape, which showcases a band that knows each other’s instincts as well as they know their own.

While this comparison isn’t totally analogous, this album reminds me a lot of Warpaint’s self-titled, a singular album from another all-female group that similarly confounds easy genre classification. I’ve been searching for a record that hits me the same way for years, and haven’t been able to find one (even among their own discography!). Gypsum is the closest I’ve ever found, and that is a welcome discovery.

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