“Sinister Grift” Peels Back Panda Bear’s Inner World
Noah Lennox’s work as Panda Bear has been defined by a constant willingness to try something new. Whether it’s in his solo material, his work as a member of experimental pop savants Animal Collective, or collaborations that range from Sonic Boom of Spacemen 3 to Daft Punk and Solange, his wide-eyed and warm voice is often the only through line across projects. Yet that Brian-Wilsonian lilt is enough of a trademark to keep even his most out there adventures somehow familiar to casual and long time listeners alike.
Photo via Ian Mitchell
With half the songs produced with the help of his bandmate Deakin, what’s most surprising about Lennox’s latest record is how free of gimmicks it arrives. From the sunny 60s pop brought by opener “Praise,” Sinister Grift delivers the watery psychedelia that has become his and his band’s signature with a level of straight-faced clarity that’s a bit jarring. Compositions that are usually lathered extravagant samples or effects are allowed to echo out, with more focus than ever put onto the words Lennox sings. Here lies the latest trick up Panda Bear’s sleeve - sober reflection.
Even a song like “50mg,” whose whimsical sway and cheeky drug reference would not be out of place on a prime Animal Collective record, only reveals the mental burdens that Lennox carries into middle age. What might have been playful in years past curdles into something more akin to a bad trip as he sings, “Gone, where the other things go, all gone / And I don’t like the quiet we’ve ended up on.” The bright melodies that dominate the A-side of Sinister Grift serve as a sort of Trojan Horse for the most melancholy musings in Panda Bear’s catalogue, informed by the loss of love and youth as the outside world refuses to provide much in the way of hope or comfort. “Ends Meet” springs in immediately after “50mg” to confront mortality with the same lyrical attitude as a blue collar worker getting ready for their daily nine-to-five, all with a beach stoner take on dub that sounds as carefree as floating along a lazy river. To quote the refrain, “What else can I do?”
“Ferry Lady” opens the record’s second half with that same juxtaposition of lightweight, shimmering psych pop and dejected lyrics: lines like “Thought we’d be friends again / Weren’t we saying our vow” and “The days we spent, now we don’t care” betray Lennox’s recent divorce as a well for the record’s malaise. The disintegration of a long-time relationship is as valid a reason as any for questioning everything, and it’s that skeleton key that allows the moodier cuts on Sinister Grift to strike a deeper chord.
The melancholic chamber of worry “Venom’s In” is the first major slowburn on the record, submerging you in its dissociative bliss. Subtle guitar flourishes and harmonies float by in ways that only plunge you deeper into a mind paralyzed by anxiety. “Left in the Cold” offers an atmospheric, simplistic counterargument, taking a pause while Panda Bear repeats the phrases “We could beat em” and “Won’t do as I’m told” with a weariness that it’s hard not to resonate with in 2025. It’s the sound of someone looking for hope and togetherness and finding them increasingly difficult to come by, especially as their own connections ebb and flow.
“Elegy for Noah Lou” positions that yearn for comfort on unsteady ground as the record’s thesis. At more than six minutes and even more ephemeral than the two tracks preceding it, it reveals the titular Sinister Grift to be the mistrust that comes with seeking human relationships. “Reading the look in your eye / Looking for something that’s mine,” sings Lennox, digging away at the hard truth that you can never know what’s going on another person’s head: all that you know is your own and the gaps you fill in. It makes the closer and lead single “Defense” come off as almost startling with its return to the first side’s psychedelic pop. Complete with some wonderful contributions from lo-fi guitar hero Cindy Lee (fresh off last year’s otherworldly Diamond Jubilee), the track sees Panda Bear trying his best to raise the inner walls again. It’s a standout within the record and his wider discography, ending the record on a high if uncertain note.
While Sinister Grift may not offer the greatest departure of Panda Bear’s 25+ year career, it nonetheless offers fresh insights alongside some of his most immediate material in a decade. These ten tracks offer a pleasant drift through the mind of one of modern music’s champions of creativity with unprecedented frankness. In times like these, a little honesty is plenty refreshing.
