I usually dislike describing artists in terms of other artists. I understand its usefulness—I myself make a lot of my musical decisions based on FFOs in promos and the “Fans Also Like” section on Spotify. But by and large, I feel like it can be dismissive of the unique elements present in the compared artists’ work. To make a clumsy metaphor, talking about a mouse with wings gives a poor understanding of what a bat is.

However, sometimes the arithmetic of other artists can give a good start in understanding what a band is like. The lazy part of my brain sometimes grabs onto superficial comparisons and combines them to make a simple equation that communicates a clearer picture than the most eloquent description I could think of with more time.

For instance, early on in my first listen of Comfort in the Consistency by Dallas indie rockers Painted Light, my brain blurted out, “this is like if David Bazan was writing songs for Local Natives.” I cast a sideways glance at my brain’s laziness, then swore under my breath knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t come up with a more accurate description.

Musically, it lives very much in the same blissfully freewheeling energy of the first Local Natives record—an obvious comparison onset from Andrew David Holcomb’s frenetic drumming and Jacob Hedke’s wide-eyed, vibrant melodies, often filled out by layers of rich harmonies (just listen to his stunning falsetto in the sprawling “Stationary” for an example of his vocal prowess). Hedke’s spring-reverb drenched guitar sings with a ragged playfulness that strums sparse chords over the intricate web of Holcomb’s drumming and Benjamin Law’s seven-string (!!!) bass. A spattering of ukuleles, violins, chimes, and mandolins sometimes take place of the guitar, making for a lush and varied experience. There are shades of post rock, math rock, and emo, without ever feeling scattered or incongruent.

All of this sonic canvas is stretched over a frame of introspective songwriting not unlike that of the almost pastoral imagery of Bazan. The songs touch on the search for inner peace, family, and fatherhood—often intertwined, such as in the domestic ode “Home,” which shifts between the warm affection and aching hope a father has for his son.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself replaying music less often—even with records I love. I’ll typically let it play once, then put on something else. But almost every time I’ve listened to Comfort in the Consistency, I’ve started it again almost as quickly as it finishes. Its thirty-three minutes are almost teasingly short. But as infectiously catchy as these songs are, there’s no balm but to play it over. And over. And over.

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