Fake Fruit are sloppy and immediate but also surprisingly technical and thought out. With two guitar lines that rarely line up and drums that constantly throw in fills and other flourishes, it’s left to the vocals and the bass guitar to provide the songs with a sense of stability. Vocalist Ham D’Amato sings with a lot of personality, allowing guitarist Alex Post and drummer Miles MacDiarmid to swirl around behind her. Dylan Allard handles some of the bass, while D’Amato is also credited with bass and guitars.
This lineup sleuthing is due to the record being credited to the official trio of D’Amato, Post, and MacDiarmid. Meanwhile, the songs were clearly recorded live off the floor with drums, two guitars, and a bass. This sort of thing is possible but difficult to do in pieces. Producer Jack Shirley lets the band shine as their unpolished selves, following a long tradition of imprecise but appealing indie rock.
Opener “See It That Way” begins on a note of hyperactive rockabilly, with jangling guitars that only partially interact with each other, while MacDiarmid’s fills nearly knock him off the beat on multiple occasions. D’Amato shout-sings her lyrics before settling on numerous repetitions of “I don’t think so, I don’t see it that way” as the song slows down and runs out of steam after less than two minutes. It’s a bit of a mess but also exciting for its propulsiveness and the sense that Fake Fruit could fall apart at any second.
While every track doesn’t have that same breakneck pace, the feeling that Fake Fruit are barely holding it together permeates the record. “Mucho Mistrust” bumps along at mid-tempo, but Post’s main guitar line and MacDiarmid’s beat don’t quite lock in during the song’s verses. That gives the impression that the track speeds up and slows down on every line. D’Amato’s vocals on the verses are spoken and not precisely in tempo, either. The noisy, more straightforward chorus is where the band locks in, while the dreamier instrumental bridge benefits from the loose beat.
“Well Song” features a surprisingly simple beat from MacDiarmid and a sturdy bass line. In this case, that’s a savvy choice because, once again, the two guitar lines don’t quite lock in together, although it’s close enough that the listener can at least get the idea. D’Amato’s singing is striking as she moans about how “My well of sympathy has run dry”, but it’s also only in the general vicinity of in tune. That makes the steady rhythm section an even more crucial element of the song.
Fake Fruit change things up here and there. The fast-paced “Venetian Blinds” features lead vocals from Post, who talks his way through the song. However, as a vocalist, he sticks to the rhythm more than D’Amato, so the whole track seems tighter than the rest of the record. “Sap” is Mucho Mistrust’s one ballad, starting with just D’Amato and a single guitar before the rest of the group quietly creeps in. Having the band relax and hearing D’Amato focus a little more on melodic singing is a very effective change of pace.
The somewhat longer “Ponies” lets Fake Fruit stretch out, their intensity ebbing and flowing throughout the song. Unfortunately, there is neither an effective vocal melody nor a guitar riff to anchor the track, so an intriguing start eventually gives way to a bit of a slog. That isn’t a problem with the next song, “Cause of Death”, which begins with a prominent saxophone part courtesy of Judith Horn. Having the sax along seems inspiring for the group. The song has tempo and key changes, the drums and guitars stay relatively simple, and everything works.
Their songs become more appealing When Fake Fruit create an effective musical hook. “Gotta Meet You” contains odd sounds that work as a B-52’s-esque romp. Cowbell, sax that plays off the guitar, and weird vocalizations from D’Amato make the song unique and fun. “Psycho” is built around a cool bassline that eventually interlocks with an extended, exciting guitar riff. “Long Island Ice Tea” has a more lightly strummed guitar riff that’s a change of pace, a refrain with backing vocals from Post, and a prominent use of the phrase, “Sunken cost fallacy.”
Mucho Mistrust is, at times, a lot of fun. At other points, Fake Fruit’s general sloppiness gets a little exhausting. There’s a lot of skill on display, as the guitars and drums, in particular, aren’t just doing simple chords and basic beats. D’Amato has a strong point of view as a lyricist, and her vocals are often fierce and appealing. It’s mostly when a song doesn’t have a catchy hook to grab the ear that the messiness overwhelms the rest of the track. If Fake Fruit focus more on this aspect of their songwriting, the lack of cohesion will be less noticeable.