Is there a proper name for the music genre that Sex Week fits in? It’s that kind of indie pop that feels raw and rich at the same time. Not unlike recent blog faves untitled (halo), Clothesline From Hell and M. Vaughan, there are a lot of acoustic sounds here backed by drum loops, electronic beds, and melodies that are reminiscent of shoegaze but too animated to apply that term to.

The first Sex Week song I heard is called “Naked”, and I thought it was a bit. The video supported that impression, starting like a Please Don’t Destroy sketch before going full reality show, with a fun reveal. It’s overwhelmingly charming though, and I found myself singing it out loud in the grocery store:

If it’s a bit, they’re committed to it, and I love it. Sex Week’s debut EP (titled Sex Week, search history be damned) came out the week before last, and it’s full of late 90s/early 00s influences, intentionally or not. The Moldy Peaches and Guyville/Whipsmart-era Liz Phair were the first reference points — the everything-slower-than-everything-else tempo and casual delivery of hooky melodies is ear-catching. And it’s full of glorious weirdness. Even the cover art choices feel like stumbling across someone’s private Polaroid photos.

The lead single, “Bluff”, is a bit of a head-fake. It’s like a straightforward bit of bedroom pop, with minimal gimmickry and no bonkers lyrics:

That’s the only song that isn’t a little off-kilter in one way or another. This is their debut single “Toad Mode” which might be kind of romantic if it wasn’t for the weird, mildly grotesque double entendres (“…He ate a lot of mushy mold“) and bizarre visuals:

The pair have an impeccable taste for the weird. This video for “Cockpit” (again with the double entendre) does things with a zero budget that are eerie and off-kilter, starts like Cronenberg and ends like Lynch:

Sex Week (the band) lured me in with soothing sounds and kept me there with the weirdness of Sex Week (the record). It’s a great start.

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