Bear Hands - Fake Tunes (LP)

Bear Hands have always thrived in the grey area between wiry indie rock and twitchy synth pop, and Fake Tunes pushes that balance into a sharper, cheekier place. Released on 10 May 2019, it arrived as the Brooklyn-via-Wesleyan trio were a little leaner and more self-aware, and it sounds it. The edges are clean, the jokes run dark, and the hooks sneak up like a grin you try not to show on the tram.

The opening run sets the tone. Back Seat Driver (Spirit Guide) is the band at their most addictive, a motorik pulse and clipped guitars circling Dylan Rau’s half-sardonic, half-anxious vocal. It’s clever without feeling precious, with those synth accents glinting just enough to catch the ear. Blue Lips, a fan favourite, pivots from the same palette but lets more air in. Ursula Rose’s guest turn softens the song’s bite in the best way, a counterpoint that turns a prickly topic into a sly duet. You don’t need liner notes to hear the chemistry. It’s the kind of single that gets stuck in your head while you’re flipping through Bear Hands vinyl at a shop and you realise you’ve been humming that chorus for three aisles.

If you came in through the band’s 2014 radio hit Giants, there’s a familiar swagger here, but the mood has matured. The rhythms are more pointed, and the synths do more than just decorate. They jab, they tease, they answer Rau’s deadpan like another character in the room. Fake Tunes isn’t a concept album, though it brushes against life online, bad advice from strangers, and the weird shapes anxiety takes in public. It does all that with a light touch. The humour sits next to the worry, not on top of it, which is why these songs keep landing on repeat.

Bear Hands’ core remains Rau, Val Loper on bass, and TJ Orscher on drums, and Fake Tunes plays to that trio’s strengths. The basslines feel elastic, a little rubbery, always propulsive. The drums have snap and presence, pushing the choruses rather than blasting through them. Guitars drop in like cool punctuation. When the band go harder, the songs still move like dance music. When they lean into electronics, the rhythms still feel human. That give-and-take is the record’s quiet magic.

Reptilians is the sneerier cousin of the singles, built on a low-end throb that would have sounded huge in a dark club on a humid Friday at the Corner. There’s also a late-album patience that rewards full playthrough, the sort of sequencing that reminds you why Fake Tunes vinyl is worth the shelf space. The grooves and dynamics translate beautifully when you let the sides breathe, and the subtle synth details sit nicely once you’re not at the mercy of phone speakers.

Part of the pleasure here is how Bear Hands keep their wit intact while sharpening the songwriting. They’re still the band that looks at the mess and cracks a smile, but they’ve trimmed the chatter. Choruses feel inevitable rather than just catchy. Verses carry their weight. It’s a record you can put on while cooking and suddenly find yourself standing in the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand, thinking about a line you just half-heard. Then another hook swoops in and you’re back to stirring.

Critical response at the time pegged these songs as some of their most immediate, and that tracks. Blue Lips in particular became a setlist moment, and you can hear why. It feels effortless, the kind of pop that doesn’t forget it came from a scrappy guitar band. If you’re chasing Bear Hands albums on vinyl, this sits smartly next to Distraction and You’ll Pay For This, a little brighter in colour, just as sharp in attitude.

For those crate-digging in a Melbourne record store, Fake Tunes is the kind of modern indie LP that plays well in a front bar between sets, then reveals extra layers when you take it home. If you like to buy Bear Hands records online, keep an eye out for pressings that do the low-end justice. It’s also an easy recommendation for anyone browsing vinyl records Australia-wide who wants guitars with a pulse and synths with personality rather than polish for its own sake.

Bear Hands don’t overstay their welcome here. Fake Tunes is concise, catchy, and quietly cutting, built for repeat spins and sly grins. If you’ve been on the fence, this is the record that’ll tip you toward the register.