Bears in Trees, building an ocean

I first came across Bears in Trees on Tumblr, about eight years ago. Needless to say, my first impression was bad. Their outright lie baffled me — none of the band members were bears. Sometimes, they’d be in trees, though. Regardless of such despicable conspiracy, they grew on me. I put my liking of them down to their chaotic-good attitude and their British indie sound with a twist of queerness.

However, I was much older than their fanbase. While they were growing up, I was old enough to have studied the blade. I’d bet most of their fans have just got acquainted with Heartstopper on Netflix, whereas I have been an avid reader of Oseman’s oeuvre since the dawn of age. I was familiar with the soundtrack from Fellow Travellers, from the unrequited jazz standards to the homoerotic disco craze.

Obviously, not because those were my jams back in the day, but rather because I grew up when it was cool to be vintage. I mean, you wouldn’t think I’m an eighty-year-old survivor of McCarthyism and the HIV pandemic, right? 👀

RIGHT?!

Anyhow, the point is I found no idols in Bears in Trees, but fellows with similar cultural references… for as much as we may share them, given our distinct backgrounds. Besides, I have had a soft spot for British music since the brainwashing haydays of Cool Britannia. That I fell prey to that small English town goblincore dirtbag boyband and their anti-cynicism agenda wasn’t exactly unfathomable.

And so I have been checking out their stuff off and on. A couple of days ago, I tried to come up with British artists a friend could listen to, so they could get used to the accent. Bears in Trees was one of the first acts to pop into my head. Then, when I went on their page to pick some songs for that friend, I noticed they’d released a new studio album in 2024 that had completely flown under my radar.

When I gave the first single a spin, Things That Look Like Mistakes, I couldn’t stop smiling. Don’t get me wrong: I still fancy their older efforts, but this record took the band to the next level. They are the same adorable dorks we all learnt to love. Yet, there’s so much more going on instrumentally-wise, both singers seem at ease with their abilities, the overall technical quality is at its finest.

It’s such a thrill to have a small artist you’ve been following for years finally get a grasp on their identity and become confident in what they do. They matured, though still retaining the youthful traits that give their music a refreshing quality: emotional openness, a peculiar sense of humour, their willingness to err and experiment, the balance between optimism and society’s impending doom.

Take Henry Says, for instance. It has that solar feel-good atmosphere only some rare non-stereotypical songs from the eighties ever managed to build. Well, I mean, those and Bleachers’ Modern Girl, I’ll give it to them. The point being, realising the independent artists you like have improved sure feels as great as any of the tracks on How to Build an Ocean: Instructions.