Pop can be intelligent without being brainless; intelligent music doesn’t have to sound like a written assignment. And as for everything in between, that’s where Chicago-based singer-songwriter Sacha Mullin has lived since the beginning. Now, with Social Touch, his fourth solo album, he explores further into pop territory without sacrificing the idiosyncratic time signatures, experimental instrumentation, and luminous vocals that give his music its pulse. Sacha Mullin wants his new record to be catchy and earnest and a little off, and so it shall.
This all leads us to the album’s opener, “Joy,” and its next track, “Don’t Wanna Hurt U,” a couple of songs that force happiness to be just a little less simple than it might seem. In relationships, even the sweetest emotions have to be justified, fought for, maybe even apologized for every now and again. Mullin unpacks that tension on Social Touch—the space between desire and action, without letting things fall apart.
As far as songwriting goes he doesn’t always follow the easiest path. His background in experimental rock and jazz influences how he glides from dense compositions to poppy immediacy, shifting from carefully measured, intimate vocals one second to an explosion of bliss the next. But the interwoven complexity never feels like experimentation for its own sake. These tunes go places, they communicate, and they demand that we follow the melodies.
The third track, “Hypocenter,” exemplifies this fine line. A tight, intense sound dominated by drum-and-bass beats and jagged pop influences creates tension, often verging on cinema-like. The vocals flit between compressed melodies and spiralling climaxes with the help of back-up contributions from Emily Bindiger, who had appeared on previous songs. The effect is compelling: as the music continues to push onwards, the singer frantically tries to hold her nerve and act as though she has everything together.
Next, “Bed All Day” addresses another familiar relationship dynamic: wanting someone to stop playing games and simply say what they mean. Mullin has explained that the song asks for an honest apology from someone who weaves in and out of connection with us. The funny thing about this song is the way it so happily gives you that emotional baggage. Instead of dragging your hurt feelings down the street, why not just dance with them?
The genius is that there’s a bit of a juxtaposition here. You might not think a request for emotional availability is the kind of thing that goes into lighthearted, carefree pop, but it probably should be. Mullin said he wanted the track to be bouncy and the juxtaposition of the sound with the lyric is part of what makes it work. He even sneaks a reference to Martha and the Muffins’ “Swimming” into the pre-chorus—a song about the fear of love, no less. That’s one of those nice touches for those who love to catch references that just about nobody else would have picked up on.
‘Mime’ and ‘Social Touch’, the album’s title track, both build on this theme of communication and intimacy. Their titles hint at the challenge of expressing yourself to someone else – a struggle that feels very much aligned with the album’s larger feeling. An album called Social Touch should examine how difficult it can be to connect with people, even when connection is exactly what you’re looking for. We could talk all day long and still have a hard time getting our point across.
Many of the album’s best moments rest on Mullin’s voice. His voice has an incredible dynamic range, but that alone isn’t what matters. It’s the way he leverages that range: At moments, he will sound humble and controlled, and then launch into a big outburst. The challenge is not to mistake volume for emotion. At its most effective, Mullin’s voice conveys genuine feeling rather than relying on sheer power.
His inspirations shed light on his style: he took inspiration from Kate Bush, Joni Mitchell, and Geike Arnaert, and the references to David Sylvian and Jeff Buckley seem to reflect his admiration for unique singers and passionate ensembles. Having played in the experimental rock bands Cheer-Accident and Lovely Little Girls, he is not afraid to veer off course now and then instead of going for the obvious.
“Tears Into Platinum” and “Odd Radio Circle” take us further into the second half of the album, maintaining its blend of pop songcraft and musical fascination. Both titles evoke change, oddness, and eccentricity – all much-appreciated notions in an album that’s attempting to leave some space for the unexpected. The bonus tracks, “Let’s Cruise!” and “Tall Ask,” extend the album’s exploration of pop songcraft and musical experimentation without straying far from its established direction. That’s what makes Social Touch so promising. Its pop strengths don’t mean it’s throwaway, and its exploratory music doesn’t have to interfere with a decent song.
Every now and then you need music that gets you thinking. Other times all you need is music to get you on your feet. Social Touch will argue convincingly that you don’t have to choose between them.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
