Merchandise: "Green Lady"

Since 2012′s Children of Desire, Merchandise has seemed like a band destined for some glorious festival center stage on the horizon. They sounded big—Disintegration big, Big Country big—even when they were still considered a punk act, by default of their preference for small DIY venues. And on “Green Lady”, they sound huge—like the middle of your FM radio dial, if it started to expand outward and claim all the nearby stations as well and possibly start blotting out the sky.

The first sounds—a THX swoosh of synths and a programmed woodblock drum—directly recall Prince’s “Sign o’ the Times”, in case you were looking for some ready signifiers of their ambition. The production is so ripe and lush, irradiated with over-bright synths and multiple layers of guitars moving in slow tandem, that the song doesn’t seem to move so much as pulse blearily in place, a sunblot behind your eyes. Carson Cox’s lyrics are exotic and heavy, like lavender scent: “Patience left you in the ocean/ Reason left you out at sea/ I’m through with begging for approval/ Now I’m asking to be free.” It’s the most sensual and confounding moment in the band’s entire career.

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