The Rhombus: "Air"

As the only means to a frowsty end, Cody Hennesy’s breathy polygon wheels out vocals in soft harmonies, pinched in bassy registers; spinning through open chords, “from Elvrum to Andrew Broder” he doth go, hushed and with shirt of hair, so humble as to tolerate that quote fromth lazy assholes like me who cherish the uxorious deity of restraint in sophomore effort — from sugardaddies like me in awe of a headphone song with no bells or whistles as far as the sweetly deft melody is concerned. The Rhombus has grown and this mostly means that we can no longer hear its vertices creak.

Bupkes, the Rhombus’ debut, seems piecemeal in modest retrospect. There we see the treble, the synth or acoustic guitar, neatly sidled alongside self-taught vocals. There was the bass, never intrusive. There was the electro-chicanery, always intrusive. There was the skeleton, the closet behind, a sharp penumbra, and right there was the satisfaction and the subversion. Margins, now, appears cohesive, no more an obvious linking of parts than an outright strengthening of Hennesy’s sound. Of course, the grunge beat closing and the layer of synth shrouding the guitar may still keep “Air” from becoming outright effortless, but Margins narrates the simple abandonment of purpose for typical bedroom DIY, painting bolts and filling in blanks.