Naked Roommate: Pass The Loofah 12" (Trouble in Mind Records Pass the Loofah is the second proper album from this Bay Area group. Naked Roommate originally spun off from a band called the World, whose 2019 record Reddish remains one of my most-played records of the 2010s. While the World was an earthy, organic-sounding group with deep sonic roots in the early Rough Trade Records discography, Naked Roommate’s sound leans into early 80s electronic beats and synthesizer pulses, albeit still laced with the irreverent lyricism, forward-thinking artistry, and comfy DIY aesthetic the World leaned on. But what strikes me most about Pass the Loofah isn’t the aesthetic, but the craftsmanship and artistry I hear on the album. So much music today is made for short attention spans and instant disposal, focusing too much on surface-level aesthetics rather than crafting songs with strong bones. Pass the Loofah bucks this trend with a substantial 41-minute runtime that takes the listener through a range of unique landscapes, an epic journey rather than a toe dipped into a diluted, lukewarm bath. For me, one of Naked Roommate’s strengths is that they never decide whether they’re a dance band, a pop group, or an art project. Tracks like “No Kicker” and “Bus” have tough, danceable rhythms from the 99 Records / ESG school, but while the beats take center stage, the songs are stacked with memorable hooks, like the chorus refrain of “we take the bus” or “Reasons Why,” where the chorus of “that’s whyyyyyyyyy… I looooooove you” cleverly subverts the unromantic mundanity in the verse imagery. And these pop moments go down all the more smoothly because they’re cut with so much art school roughage. A standout in this vein is “Successful Friend,” a funky, Talking Heads-esque track with great lyrics, my favorite being “among your many successes (…) is having your designs printed on pajamas across the world!,” a line that’s bound to bring a smile to the face of any Uranium Club or Cool Greenhouse fan. Even further out are the album’s three instrumental tracks—including the Neu!-ish “Ducky & Viv” and the electric-era Miles Davis-channeling “G-Y pt. 2”—which are among my favorite on the album. There’s so much variety on Pass the Loofah, and not only does nothing feel redundant, but as you’re listening the record seems to spiral ever-upward, each song reaching new heights. The experience culminates with “I Can’t Be Found,” a soft landing that reminds me of the way Eno’s Here Come the Warm Jets closes with its title track. Typically, a good record is one I want to play again as soon as it’s over, but Pass the Loofah’s wider scope and ambition leave me wanting to sit in silence and process what I’ve heard, a sign that I’ve consumed a substantial piece of art rather than just a bunch of instantly gratifying empty musical calories.