After a five year hiatus, these Boston indie-rockers dig their roots even deeper and fly even higher on Somebody’s Favorite.
“Beeef is back!” is a sentence Boston music fans have been waiting to shout from the rooftops of Allston for too long, but upon the recent release of Somebody’s Favorite, the wait is finally over. Back with their third full-length album, these local legends have made the basement scene whole again.
From meeting as roommates at Boston University, to starting local music blog Allston Pudding, and forming a band that played its first show at O’Brien’s, the story of Beeef is so Boston it’s almost an Affleck movie — and Beeef is not shy about playing into this role. But Somebody’s Favorite is far from rose-colored; instead, they take a self-aware, sometimes sardonic view of their city.
In “Something in the River,” lyrics muse on the somewhat inexplicable phenomenon of people choosing to come back to Boston: “Grew out my hair and moved to Brooklyn for a year, but now I’m back here / And I know / There must be something in the river.” As any Bostonian knows, whatever is lurking in the Charles is certainly unsavory, but Beeef gets to the core of this local pride with a charming refrain: “You don’t have to be the best to be somebody’s favorite.”
Aside from our beloved river, Beeef takes up other Northeast subject matter on “Narragansett Bay,” an ode to Rhode Island that perfectly captures the last weekend of summer feeling with its bittersweet guitar melody and slightly pleading vocals. A large helping of nostalgia winds its way through this album and this track in particular, which has listeners wishing for a “house with salt-stained shingles, somewhere on a seashell road.”
Same thing goes on “Bedhead Boy,” which swaps the beach for lyrical descriptions of a childhood bedroom, complete with a shout out to Red Sox legend Nomar Garciaparra. A mellow tune lets the wistful harmonies shine. if sepia tones could be a sound, this would be it.
Since nostalgia is often the consequence of transition periods, it’s clear that Beeef spends a lot of time thinking about the passing of time. Past, present, and future all come to a thumping head on “Nice Clean Shirt,” the first track on the album, that also does its best to scream into the void (in respectful Beeef style of course). The drumline is addicting, and so is the chorus of “I got a nice clean shirt, don’t put your fingers on it.”
Speaking of time, five years in between records is plenty enough to lose and find oneself again. It’s also enough time to find a slightly updated sound, which Beeef chooses to unveil to their audience through a sneaky synth on tracks like “Primrose Path,” lending a bright punch to their familiar blend.
Still, Beeef is in no rush to make up for time, and even gives us an entire instrumental track on “Closing Out.” Expansive synths climb so slowly you almost don’t even notice they’re there, until crashing cymbals bring you back down to earth. It’s like pedaling up Beacon Hill on your bike, before the hurtling momentum of racing down the other side.
On the final track, “Guess I Shouldn’t Wait,” the pull between inertia and speed come even more into focus, opening with lyrics “I’ve got a whole lot of catching up to do / …But I’ll just wait ’til tomorrow.” As the lyrics comment, there’s always one more episode of TV or one more YouTube video to put off the to-do list inevitably. Even the album itself refuses to move on – the 8 minutes of “Guess I Shouldn’t Wait” indulge in a dallying instrumental section that fades out into a fizzy burst of static.
After a long break, bands have a tendency to feel the need to prove themselves, to display all they’ve carved out and crafted in that time. But on Somebody’s Favorite, a hungry audience is treated to Beeef just being Beeef. There’s audible growth, yes, but it’s still in progress, without righteous finality. Beeef is back, but they haven’t fully arrived yet. And the space in between is exactly where they want to be.