Close It Quietly

In its length, quality, and economy, Close It Quietly can evoke tour de force sprees like Elvis Costello’s Get Happy! or Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville. Kline sings about some serious coming-of-age stuff here, but in the casual way of someone organizing their room, not getting lost in the pathways of their ennui.

Though the songs average just under two minutes each, at 21 tracks, it's generous for a Cosmos outing and does nothing to detract from Kline's reputation as one of indie pop's most reliable songsmiths.

Frankie Cosmos continues to succeed at condensing the task of processing feelings down into short minute-ish long songs. The pace of the album is set at a brisk run, but it never gets sweaty, so you'd never notice how quick it is — or how hard it's working. Close It Quietly is composed and meticulous in flow, flawlessly delivering reserved passion.

There's no doubt that Kline’s abundance of sharp ideas and approaches will lead her down some other paths, but Close It Quietly’s full-band approach yields an embarrassment of eminently listenable indie-rock gems.

Close It Quietly sees the band take a few steps forward, sideways and back—an aural square dance that’s well worth your time.

Close It Quietly is honest about the pain of rebirth, but it doesn’t dwell there. Kline’s more interested in what grows out of that mess.

Kline's emotive indie pop is really just punk. Each of the 21 tracks on Close It Quietly clock in at two minutes or under, the musical tone is consistent, but enveloping, and Kline's stream-of-consciousness outpourings are as transgressive as any squawked political missive.

It’s a real skill to make what is essentially pop music that also manages to combine depth in lyrics and cheerful tunes, and on this album Frankie Cosmos absolutely excel.