Throughout the first five Tennis albums, duo Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley have mastered their own unique style of indie pop. The married couple mines their own lives and relationship for subtle songs of love, loss, and the things they’ve learned along the way, all with understated beauty. The songs don’t grab hold and demand your attention so much as immerse you in the experience.
As with Tennis’s last two albums, Pollen was recorded and produced by Moore and Riley in their home studio in Denver and is being released on their own label, Mutually Detrimental. For this sixth album, Tennis sticks to that formula and fine-tunes it. All of the things we’ve come to expect from a Tennis album are there — the hummable melodies, muted vocals, textured interplay between guitars and keyboards, and lo-fi compositions paired with infectious grooves — with some minor tweaks. Moore stretches her comfort range a bit, some new musical elements are added, and the mix is much more bare-bones compared to the wall of sound on other releases. It is also a less guitar-centric album. Though all previous Tennis albums have combined guitar, keyboards, bass, and other elements into an even mix, there were always times when guitar riffs stood out. There are few moments like that on Pollen, where the guitar is more of a supporting instrument buried under the rhythmic bass and keys.
A recurring theme throughout Pollen is how small things can have large consequences. In lead single “One Night with the Valet,” Moore sings of how love can be fulfilling while also becoming a high that never satisfies because more is needed. “Finding myself tempted by the face of love; really fear that I could never get enough,” she sings. Her hushed voice, as on most of the album, is so soft that it seems on the verge of breaking up and being swallowed in her throat.
The album opener “Forbidden Doors” carries a sense of loss, of leaving a life behind. “Now that it’s over, burned past in a fever, like a true unbeliever, I’ve got questions,” Moore sings. The song also has some of those new tweaks to the Tennis sound to accompany that sense of loss and departure. Riley’s rumbling bass is thick and distorted, droning throughout to add an uneasy feeling. Moore’s vocals, usually quiet and raspy, have a bit more power.
“Let’s Make a Mistake Tonight” pairs Riley’s funk guitar licks with Moore’s saccharine keys and a thumping dance beat. In it, the band embraces risks to feel alive, even if those risks turn out to be mistakes, because it’s better than living life too safely. “I can’t help it, I can’t walk away; take my pain with pleasure any day,” Moore sings.
“Pollen Song” drives home the album’s main theme. Amid Riley’s jazz-funk electric guitar licks intertwined with acoustic strumming, Moore sings about how something small can ruin an otherwise great experience. “We’re going to the trail where the blossoms are falling but all I can see is the pollen f—king me up,” she sings.
Though all Tennis songs are soft and angelic, “Hotel Valet” takes that to a new level with its ethereal keyboard tone and Moore’s high-pitched croon. The R&B cadence to Moore’s vocals and the slow, sparse groove gives a romantic feel to the love ballad. “I’ve been up in the clouds. Only you can bring me back to my body,” she sings.
As with other Tennis releases, Pollen has a subtle beauty to its short, 32-minute runtime. The layered instruments and crooned vocals are steeped in the kind of love that is anchored in more than a decade of marriage. As such, it might not have the passionate peaks and valleys of a brief fling, but it makes up for that in its mature craftsmanship and shared vision of creating and maintaining the art.
