From their name alone, it's obvious that Elvis Depressedly are a band that don't take themselves too seriously. Yes, they write sad songs that sound more than a little like they came straight out of the basement of a reclusive twenty-something who spends all of his time writing bad poetry, strumming his guitar, and feeling sorry for himself. But there's also a self-awareness in New Alhambra that sets it apart from your typical sad-sack guy with a guitar music. This, along with the youthful abandon present in its lo-fi production, ramshackle instrumentation, and earworm melodies, gives the twenty-minute album a surprising amount of staying power.

In all honesty, I didn't think I liked New Alhambra the first time I heard it. It was hard for me to embrace the lo-fi atmosphere and short song lengths, both of which I've tended to be put off by in general. However, months later, I'd randomly find melodies and lyrics resurfacing from the recesses of my memory; there was something hypnotic and addictive about them that I just couldn't shake. Near the end of the year, I returned to the album with a fresh perspective, and this time it clicked.

Its seeming simplicity is what can make it seem initially underwhelming. The songs are so brief and understated that they'll flow right past your ears if you aren't actively listening. Each one is a strange but endearing mishmash of electronic and organic instrumentation, strung together by ominous soundbites and Mathew Lee Cothran's wavering, apathetic vocals, always distorted to sound like they're submerged underwater. Tracks like "Thou Shall Not Murder" and "New Heaven, New Earth" are spacey and relaxed, built on intertwining guitar and string melodies. The latter, especially, is gorgeous but devastating, with lyrics that speak to struggles with self-worth and being confident in one's own skin ("I only understand this body for its needs;" "My cage is beautiful, but insincere; "Violate my world/I'm not a person"). Meanwhile, "N.M.S.S." - an acronym for the repeated refrain, "No more sad songs," a humorous nod to the fact that these are only sad songs - is more energetic, with finger snaps even, but no less melancholy.

The common thread running through these tracks is just how perfectly, in lyrics and sound, they encapsulate the contradictory experiences of young adulthood, especially in the battle between detachment and passion that underlies them. The album's thesis is no better stated than on the closing track, "Wastes of Time," which clocks in at a mere minute and a half. Accompanied only by acoustic guitar, Cothran's voice is clear, as if he has finally crawled out from beneath the distortion and muddle. He sings, "If you try, I will try/If we fuck up, it's alright/There's so much more to life/Than all these wastes of time," and despite the tremble in his voice, you can't help but believe him.