Torn Hawk's Luke Wyatt releases so much music at such a rapid rate that his progress is bound to be swift as well. Let's Cry and Do Pushups at the Same Time is Torn Hawk's second full-length in 2014 alone, following the brilliantly surreal debut album Through Force of Will and two EPs that encompassed his music's extremes, the ultra-fragmented Quadrifolia and the flowing Songs from Bad Kid School. On all these releases, the roots of his sound are the same -- elastic, glossy guitars entwined with genre-hopping beats and electronics -- but on Let's Cry these elements sound more organically blended than ever. This is due in part to the album's cleaner production values; if Wyatt's previous releases could have been recorded on a VHS with filthy heads, these songs sound like they were made with mint-condition equipment. Mostly, though, Let's Cry's smoother feel comes from the graceful arcs most of these tracks trace. With the notable exception of the choppy Through Force of Will throwback "Return to the Pec Deck," Wyatt calls less attention to his process and lets melody and emotion take the spotlight. The album's gorgeous opening track, "I'm Flexible," shows just how potent this approach is: full of luminous synths and guitars (and some faint seagull cries in the background), it's one of Wyatt's most assured and engaging songs yet, with an emotive spark that sets it apart from chillwave's tendency toward hazy anonymity. The way he dismantles and reconfigures emotions and eras has had more personality than many of his peers, so it's no surprise that Let's Cry's most satisfying moments are the ones that seem most genuine; "Afterprom" builds slowly into euphoria that rivals M83 in its scope. As on Through Force of Will, Torn Hawk's sense of humor is more suffused than it was on some of Wyatt's earlier music. "Acceptance Speech" mocks self-congratulations with overwrought guitars, a tactic he uses even more subtly on "She Happens," where his fretwork teeters between cheesy and affecting like a mutated soundtrack to a late-'80s drama. Throughout Let's Cry and Do Pushups at the Same Time, Wyatt comments on nostalgia as much as he creates it; when the album closes with "There Was a Time," it feels like the kind of time he describes with his music has changed fundamentally. Not only does Wyatt sound even more comfortable with the album format, his uncanny valley of past and present, feeling and observing, is blurrier -- and more impressive -- than ever.
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