While to this point songwriter/engineer
Sam Owens
' releases under the
Sam Evian
moniker have all had a drowsy, nostalgic quality to them emphasized by vintage instruments and recording techniques, he dials up the wooziness a couple notches on his third album, the aptly titled
Time to Melt
. Working with some of his regular stable of musicians -- among them partner
Hannah Cohen
-- he also expands arrangements here, adding a horn section and contributions by the likes of
Grizzly Bear
's
Chris Bear
,
the War on Drugs
'
Jon Natchez
, and
Spencer Tweedy
, to name a few. Funky bass and Fender Rhodes are among the featured instruments on songs that feel jammier than his first two albums, though the mood remains mellow and languid, at least for the most part. It begins with the warped, vibraphone-cushioned soft rock of "Freezee Pops," which eventually introduces
Owens
' gentle, meditative vocals around the 45-second mark. Inspired by the works of masters like
Marvin Gaye
and
John Coltrane
, he brings sociopolitical issues to the fore from the start, with the opening lines "Taking a ride downtown/You know what you're in for" leading a poetic reflection on injustice and police brutality that's at odds with the song's breezy musicality. Similarly textured later track "Knock Knock" offers the line "Living in America, we tell ourselves almost anything but truth." That song's abundant pitch bends and glissandos are a trait of a whole album lost in a combination of meandering thoughts and grooves. Nine tracks in, the affectionate "Easy to Love" splashes cold water on the face of the proceedings with its brisk tempo, syncopated horns, and festival-like full-stage instrumentation. The record then slips back into a beanbag chair for the quieter, trippier "999 Free" and somnambulant closer "Around It Goes," whose aqueous guitar, saxophone, and funk groove score audio clips sent in by fans at
Evian
's request during pandemic lockdown. That track in particular is indicative of set that sometimes suffers from overindulging a good idea, as the album eventually disintegrates into the interiors of a lava lamp. ~ Marcy Donelson