Ever Ending Kicks, helmed by Washington songwriter Paul Adam Benson, is a project in disciplined, sculptural pop. Many acts conveniently carry the torch of “minimalism” as a smokescreen for ineptitude or undercooked ideas. But like American Analog Set or early Low, Benson’s songs reward the listener through minor alterations, understated gestures and significant voids. Any loops are airless, the rhythm section carefully fragmented into nodes. Sung with plain articulation, Benson’s lyrics confront ego and materialism, then just as quickly conjure aliens in baseball caps, Christian dads in distressed denim. The poet Allen Ginsberg once characterized Arthur Russell’s avant pop as “Buddhist bubblegum”. On a lark, we could perhaps consider Ever Ending Kicks as “subconscious-core”.