Pink Mountaintops - Peacock Pools (LP) - Light Blue Vinyl

Stephen McBean slips back into Pink Mountaintops like a long-lost leather jacket on Peacock Pools, released in May 2022 on ATO Records. It’s the first Pink Mountaintops album since 2014’s Get Back, and you can hear the time away in the way these songs strut, crack, and glow. McBean is best known for leading Black Mountain into monolithic riff-land, but Pink Mountaintops has always been his place for a more playful tangle of garage rock, glam sparkle, and psych haze. Peacock Pools leans into that mix with a grin.

The record opens its arms with sounds that feel lived-in. Guitars get fuzzy and sticky, drums snap instead of bludgeon, and McBean’s voice rides the top with the conspiratorial warmth of a friend turning up the stereo a notch. The tribute “Nikki Go Sudden” lands like the statement piece. It tips a heart-on-sleeve nod to the late Nikki Sudden, and it carries that loose swagger you’d hope for from a song that namechecks a cult hero. It’s not pastiche. It’s kinship. The riffs are simple and sturdy, the kind that make you remember how good it feels to be yanked back to the chorus.

“Lights of the City” is the other immediate highlight, all glow and motion. McBean has long called Los Angeles home, and you can hear that LA dusk in the song’s pulse. It’s not glossy. It’s the kind of city track that notices the sodium streetlights, the empty stretches of boulevard, and the way a melody can make the night feel less lonely. His writing on Peacock Pools lives in those in-between spaces. Death and memory drift through the record, but the tone stays human and unforced. There’s bite, there’s humor, and there’s the feeling that the band is playing for the room, not the algorithm.

Production-wise, Peacock Pools keeps things close and tactile. Nothing is over-sculpted. Guitars buzz and smear in a way that would make a power-pop lifer nod. The rhythm section is dry and immediate, giving even the murkier corners a sense of lift. McBean has always had a knack for making scruffy ideas feel grand without blowing them out of proportion, and that skill is all over these tracks. The songs don’t chase long arcs. They bloom fast, find their hook, then leave a scuff mark you’ll notice two days later.

Part of the charm here is how it reframes the Pink Mountaintops catalog. If the early 2000s albums flirted with folk-psych and louche pop, and Get Back barreled into garage glory, Peacock Pools threads the needle. It remembers why we fell for the project in the first place while letting McBean’s songwriting tighten up. He doesn’t over-sing. He doesn’t cram every bar with ideas. He places a guitar figure just so, then lets the air around it do some of the talking. That restraint gives the record replay power.

If you’re crate-digging, this is a record that rewards the turntable. The Peacock Pools vinyl has that front-row feel, the kind of midrange-forward cut that makes a small room feel like a private show. I didn’t even make it through side A before I started texting a friend who still swears by Swell Maps. If you’re trying to buy Pink Mountaintops records online, make sure you don’t skip this one while hunting down the earlier Jagjaguwar titles. Pink Mountaintops albums on vinyl can be surprisingly slippery to find once a pressing goes out of stock, so grab it when you see it. I’ve watched copies vanish from a Melbourne record store wall over a single weekend, and a week later folks are scouring vinyl records Australia listings trying to chase it down.

What sticks after a few spins is how welcoming the album feels. McBean has nothing left to prove at this point, yet he’s still chasing the perfect two-and-a-half minute jolt. That makes Peacock Pools the kind of late-night companion that sneaks into your routine. You’ll put it on while making dinner, then you’ll be standing in the doorway air-drumming to a fill you didn’t notice the first time. You’ll catch a tossed-off line and suddenly the whole song opens up. That’s the quiet magic of this record.

For longtime fans, it’s a relief and a thrill to see Pink Mountaintops back in rude health. For newcomers, it’s an easy entry point, the kind of album you can play for a friend who loves guitars but doesn’t want homework. However you get it, whether you’re flipping the Pink Mountaintops vinyl in your living room or streaming it on the train, Peacock Pools feels like a welcome return from one of rock’s great shapeshifters.