There’s a particular kind of ambition in trying to revive the sonic DNA of the late ’60s without turning it into pure pastiche. On The Things I Do on Grass, that ambition is both the album’s greatest strength—and at times, its undoing.
From the outset, the influence of bands like The Rolling Stones, The Who, and The Kinks is unmistakable. There’s a looseness in the instrumentation, a fondness for slightly overdriven guitars, Hammond textures, and melodic structures that feel lived-in rather than engineered. But instead of mimicking those influences directly, the album filters them through something more fragmented, more internal.
A Title Open to Interpretation
The album title itself—The Things I Do on Grass—invites multiple readings. On one level, it evokes pastoral calm: lying in a field, detached from the world. On another, it hints at altered states—psychedelia, introspection, or even escapism. That duality runs throughout the record: is this album grounded or drifting? Sincere or ironic? The answer is often “both.”
Highlights and Standouts
The title track, “Things I Do on Grass,” leans heavily into psychedelic ambiguity. Lines like “It’s an acid flashback too / My mic’s off / I’m in my room” blur the boundary between performance and isolation. It feels like a meta-commentary on creation itself—music made in solitude, imagined as something larger.
In contrast, “You Were Torn Away” strips everything back. It’s one of the album’s most emotionally direct moments, built around loss and unresolved questions. The repetition in the chorus reinforces a sense of helplessness rather than resolution—an approach that feels truer to classic ballad traditions than modern pop closure.
“Please Stop Treating Me Like You Do” brings a sharper edge. Structurally simple but lyrically pointed, it echoes the confrontational honesty you might associate with The Who, though delivered with a more introspective tone than outright aggression.
Then there’s “The Bitter Taste of Loneliness,” which arguably comes closest to channeling the darker emotional palette of The Doors. Its stark familial references and cyclical chorus create a sense of emotional entrapment—heavy, repetitive, and intentionally uncomfortable.
Playfulness vs. Depth
One of the album’s defining traits is its unpredictability. “Poison!” and “What You’re Gonna Do” explore toxic relationships with a mix of self-awareness and contradiction, while “My Yellow Cockerpoo” abruptly shifts tone into something almost disarmingly wholesome. It’s a risky move, but not entirely out of place—after all, albums from the era it draws inspiration from often embraced tonal whiplash.
Still, this inconsistency can feel less like deliberate eclecticism and more like a lack of editorial restraint. The album doesn’t always decide what it wants to be, and occasionally, that indecision shows.
Atmosphere and Experimentation
Tracks like “The Office Upstairs” and “Coincidental Carp” lean into surreal imagery and loose narrative structures. There’s a dreamlike quality here—fragments of meaning rather than fully formed statements. The latter, with its almost absurdist repetition and imagery, feels like a nod to the more experimental side of The Beatles’ later work.
Meanwhile, “State of Mind” and “My Place” offer a softer landing. They trade irony for warmth, even hope, suggesting that beneath the album’s scattered thoughts lies a desire for connection and grounding.
Final Thoughts
The Things I Do on Grass is not a perfectly cohesive album—but it doesn’t really try to be. Instead, it feels like a collage of moods, influences, and ideas, stitched together by a clear affection for a transformative era in music history.
At its best, it captures the spirit—not just the sound—of that era: experimental, emotional, occasionally messy, and unafraid to contradict itself. At its weakest, it risks drifting into self-indulgence.
But even then, it remains interesting. And that, perhaps, is the most faithful tribute it could offer.
