Singer-Songwriter Emilio Pinchi Releases Earnest EP Tackling The Mundane
Somewhere in Liverpool, there’s a boy with bright eyes and big talent, strumming away on his acoustic guitar. Maybe you’re thinking of any number of British musicians, but we’ve got one in mind: Emilio Pinchi, a young singer-songwriter who just dropped his new EP, Holiday, featuring four sweet tunes navigating that thin line between the mundane day-to-day and the ordinary we’re used to.
We asked Emilio to talk to us a little bit about the new record and he delivered, thoughtfully walking us through each track off the EP and what they mean to him (and what he hopes they’ll mean to us). Take a listen below.
Holiday opens with its title track, a tender song driven by tropically-tinged acoustic twang. We’re introduced to Emilio’s voice — this languishing, resigned croon with a bit of flavor. While he’s singing those punchy lyrics so nonchalantly (“I’m on the floor again / and I’m looking at you again / and your eyes make me wanna die / and your skin makes me wonder why”), Emilio’s guitar joins a more vibrant (but still subdued) arrangement of chiming keys and steady drum pad beats. It’s a sugary sweet little sonic gen, so unassuming in those unwavering vocals but warm nonetheless.
Next we get “Coffee,” a slightly up-tempo track featuring thick percussion and the buzz of harmonica. Emilio’s voice still has that straight-line quality to it, but if you listen closely, you can hear some hint of an ache as he sings “Life in this city says ‘I don’t love you anymore.’” The arrangement is fast-paced, in a way, but elements of it (like the guitar blooms and the harmonica) crawl, in no hurry to keep up with the rest of the track. The disconnect isn’t jarring, though. It feels right. It sounds right too.
On “This Machine,” we’re treated to a beautifully bittersweet acoustic-led track. It’s the standout of the EP, an elegant social commentary reflecting on consumerism and the toll it takes on society as a whole; the blind greed, the anonymity, the desire to feel anything at all. You don’t get all that from one listen, though, because Emilio is clever enough to nestle his wisdom in between a dreamy, albeit melancholic, arrangement and matter-of-fact lyrics. He’s not grabbing us by the ankles and pulling us down like he might have if the song were presented in a more in-your-face direct manner, but he is giving us something to mull over, and we want to, because he does it so gently.
Holiday ends with “White Wine Water Bottle,” a tongue-in-cheek sonic smash of twangy guitar and heavy slaps of percussion in which Emilio lists the disjointed moments he remembers from uni. There’s no magic here — that’s the whole point. Things happen for no reason and we either remember them or we forget them. Emilio’s okay with that. Maybe we should be too.
On his new EP Holiday, Emilio Pinchi offers four fleeting morsels on the mundane. Despite his near-cynical take on society, his steady acoustic-driven arrangements still suggest glimmers of great beauty. It’s a record to simultaneously enjoy mindlessly and think hard about.