Despite their new record “The Future Will Destroy You” being their sixth long player, somehow it always feels necessary to introduce or re-introduce Viva Voce every time they put out something new. Calling them forgettable is probably not the right thing to say, especially since they’re written a number of great and memorable songs, but they never seem to get enough press or notice for them. Consider them a bit of a lost treasure then, one of those secrets that if you know about them, your life feels just a little bit richer as a result. In fact, you’ve likely heard Viva Voce before whether you know it or not. Their songs have appeared in a number of popular TV shows from “Friday Night Lights” to “One Tree Hill”, and like many of those snippets, were enough to make you sit up and ask somebody who the band was before falling back into the plot and not following up properly on it. So as a primer, or a reminder for those that may have forgotten, here’s a snapshot of Viva Voce. The core of the band is made up of Portland husband and wife duo Kevin and Anita Robinson. They were the two there from the very beginning back in 1998, and it’s only been in the last couple years that they’ve added two new members to help flesh out their songs a bit more both in the studio and while performing. But Viva Voce have also done their fair share of label hopping across their catalogue, going from Asthmatic Kitty to Minty Fresh to Barsuk and now settling in with Vanguard for their newest record. They’ve toured with everyone from The Shins to Jimmy Eat World, and even established an alt-country side project called Blue Giant with some of their Portland friends that included Decemberists guitarist Chris Funk (who has since left the group). To call them seasoned musicians at this point is more than accurate, and while it’s not always the case, sometimes the records get better with age.
The best way to describe the sound of Viva Voce is probably folk-tinged psych-pop, which is just a fancy way of saying that while the band can get a little spacey and reverb-heavy in their compositions, they never reach so far out of bounds as to alienate the listener. “The Future Will Destroy You” may not feature their most upbeat collection of songs, but it does have some of their smartest and tightest to date. “Plastic Radio” opens the record with some buzzsaw guitars and a groove that’s just a touch retro and surprisingly danceable. Even more interesting is the way the song is structured, because there are essentially two separate hooks working in fascinating opposition with one another. The first is based entirely around the rise and fall of a fuzz-addled guitar, while the second is purely lyrical with Anita pushing the command to “smash that radio”. In between those things is a strong programmed beat and some funky keyboards that only add to the classic fun. The best thing about it though is how there are no actual verses in the song, but rather just a lot of ping-ponging back and forth between instrumental groove and the sung chorus. It’s a smart move in particular because you wouldn’t notice it unless you were paying very close attention. First single “Analog Woodland Song” is almost normal-sounding by comparison, though the way the guitars get choppy during the chorus adds that psychedelic edge to break out the charm that Viva Voce have become known for. The way the guitars meander in and around a sharp beat on “Diamond Mine” makes for some intense instrumental moments, so much so they pretty much outshine Anita’s reverb-heavy vocals over the first half of the song. Ironically the opposite is true on “Black Mood Ring”, where the harmony-heavy vocals (along with Kevin’s percussion work) dominate over the guitars and anything else that might stand in their way. The second half of the record contains some great tunes as well, the most notable probably being the title track, which chugs along with purpose despite its ominous lyrics and relatively patterned melody. The more acoustic-oriented melodies of “Cool Morning Sun” and “No Ship Coming In” bring out the band’s folksier side, and there’s a beauty and grace about them that isn’t especially present at other points on the album.
What “The Future Will Destroy You” does right is bring together a collection of songs that work very well together and are true to Viva Voce’s sound. That said, though this may be their tightest and most fully formed effort, it does little to advance what we already know about the band. There’s not a lot of exploration or pushing the envelope too far, which after so many years and albums you might come to expect. The small changes to the structure of a couple songs are less new ideas for them and more a return to something that has been toyed with previously. The same goes for the more extended instrumental passages, though they’ve never had so many non-vocal hooks as they do here. The ability to instill a memory of a guitar riff rather than actual lyrics is more challenging than it might appear, so kudos to the band for pulling it off multiple times. Perhaps their sonic experiments were placed more on the Blue Giant record, which tapped into a wholly different aspect of the band’s personality, even if there were a lot more cooks in that kitchen putting that record together. Kevin and Anita Robinson have returned to Viva Voce because the sounds and the lyrics they are writing make the most sense with that project. With some of the most commercially viable songs of their careers as well, one might hope they finally find the extended success they’ve richly deserved for awhile now. It’d be nice if I didn’t have to explain who they are again when their next record gets released.
By every indication, Justin Vernon is not the same man he was 3 years ago. It has been that long since his debut album “For Emma, Forever Ago” was recorded all alone under the moniker of Bon Iver out in a wintry Wisconsin cabin. The story about the creation of the album was about as perfect as the album itself, bringing with it the thought that maybe if we all just retreated from civilization perhaps we too might emerge with a similar bit of brilliance. Many have surely tried since then, but I haven’t heard any incredible “cabin in the woods” stories recently, and I’m guessing you haven’t either. But Vernon has done nothing but grow since breaking free of that self-imposed cocoon, moving forwards with a number of extra projects that includes the slow R&B collective Gayngs and the uber-experimental Volcano Choir. That’s not even making mention of his guest work on the latest Kanye West album along with the slight sonic leap forwards that was Bon Iver’s “Blood Bank” EP. While supporting that first Bon Iver record on tour, Vernon recruited an actual band to play with, and they’ve been by his side ever since, working to carefully enhance the sparse and singular acoustic guitar arrangements. He very well could have raced back to that Wisconsin cabin to record the second Bon Iver full length, but given all that’s happened to him, one gets the impression that he’s moved so far beyond that classic tale both mentally and sonically that there would be no point looking back. So instead Vernon built a recording studio out of an old veterinary clinic in Wisconsin, where he and the rest of the band crafted the new album in bits and pieces during their free time over these last 3 years. This record is self-titled, and that’s most likely because it marks a second rebirth for Vernon, signalling that Bon Iver is no longer just a singular man with a guitar but instead a full-fledged band with a vast array of tools at their disposal.
A big part of what made “For Emma, Forever Ago” so charming was the simplicity of it. The thought that a voice and an acoustic guitar were just about all the tools you needed to craft amazing songs meant that production values, studio magic and a full band were unnecessary extravagances when push came to shove. In certain cases though, such as with tUnE-yArDs, stepping up from crappy bedroom laptop recording to legitimate studio and backing band has proven not only necessary, but essential towards unleashing the full potential of an artist. Those concerned that Vernon’s upward movement towards bigger and better has spoiled his ability to write and compose smart music needn’t have worried after all, for “Bon Iver” seems to fully recognize all of the best things about that last album and worked simply to expound upon them in new and interesting ways. The anchor, as it has always been, is Vernon’s voice. That stark falsetto is truly unique in today’s musical landscape, and he once again makes the most out of it. Doubled and tripled over harmonies, Auto-Tune and a host of other effects make the singing a weapon of its own, often rising above the main course of melody to create added depth and beauty. He never quite goes to the length of the a capella acrobatics that was “Woods” off the “Blood Bank” EP, but he doesn’t need to here, particularly because there’s so much else for your ears to pick up on. The subtle uses of horns, orchestral sections and saxophones mix with digital and electro effects to make a mix that’s purposely muddy and understated. There are no sweepingly epic or overtly dramatic moments on the album, even if there are songs that build to noisy and satisfying crescendos. Intimacy is maintained primarily though Vernon’s words and his delivery of them, but for the most part there’s a natural calm that flows through the entire record from an instrumental perspective, to the point where it’s not too difficult to catch a nap during a few songs should the conditions be right. That’s not to say this album is boring, just that like any good lullaby, when you mix quiet and beautiful sometimes you’ll just close your eyes for a minute and wake up hours later.
Starting with a few seconds of pure silence, “Bon Iver”‘s opening track “Perth” works the term “slow burn” in the best way possible. The carefully picked and slightly fuzzy electric guitar initially maps out the melody, and shortly thereafter a very martial drum line kicks in to help propel that even more. After running through a couple of verses with not much of a legitimate chorus, nearly the entire final half of the song is pure instrumental build to an explosion. Chords are hit, the drums get louder, a horn section comes into play, and the best “hook” we can ask for is based purely on the guitar notes and nothing else. This is an introduction to the evolution of Bon Iver, and it’s heartening to see the band loosed from the chains of a more conventional song structure. Soft rock and a more nature-infused alt-country intersect on “Minnesota, WI”. The first half of the song moves from spacey guitar and deep drums into an almost slowed down reggae groove where flutes and saxophones all gently work with one another next to Vernon breaking out his lowest register R&B vocal that comes across as more Tunde Adebimpe than it does Bon Iver. But there’s a smooth development that enters with a subtle but fast moving acoustic guitar that’s about the auditory equivalent of a babbling forest brook. Suddenly all the other instruments begin to fade away, and in their place comes a banjo and a slide guitar. There’s also a heavy synth that pulsates through the main melody as it grinds towards a conclusion in which all the sounds collide in a melting pot that only works because of its modesty and restraint. Not everything is pure innovation or extensive with what it contains. “Holocene” is much more a vocal showcase than anything else, though the acoustic guitar and xylophone are nearly as warm and welcoming. Still, the light touch of a bicycle bell on “Michicant” or the bird chirping on “Hinnom, TX” make those songs just a touch more charming past what they’re already doing.
If there’s a point of contention on this self-titled album though, it’s going to be with closing track “Beth/Rest”. Whereas everything leading up to that point had only hinted towards something more 80s soft rock/adult contemporary, Bon Iver goes for the jugular in the end with something that would register as pure homage were it also not infused with a couple of small modern-day flourishes. Still, trying not to think about Bruce Hornsby and his kinfolk whilst listening to the song is tough, unless you’re young enough to have never been exposed to such cheese. This fucking with the idea of what’s “cool” by creating a song that is patently uncool seems to have carried over with a number of artists this year. Destroyer’s “Kaputt” worked on a lot of the same principles and managed to succeed in spite of itself. A worse example would be Heidecker & Wood’s debut album, which left you wondering if there was a joke or extreme sincerity behind it. For Bon Iver, the thinking appears to be one of acceptance. What’s cool is relative, and while we all make mistakes from time to time, we shouldn’t have to defend things or music that we truly love no matter how bad it might be to others. Even then, were we to search hard enough, perhaps we can find something great about an otherwise terrible thing or song. For me, “Beth/Rest” is worthwhile and a solid album closer less because it’s a decent song and more because of what it represents and tries to do. Certainly it will have its critics, but where some will see fault others will see perfection. 80s adult conteporary may be a crap genre, but at least Bon Iver has taken the risk and wound up making that crap sound almost listenable.
To say that expectations were high for the second Bon Iver album would be an understatement. “For Emma, Forever Ago” touched so many people who identified with its sparse and somber message. It is a record about heartbreak and attempting to move past it. As a contrast, “Bon Iver” isn’t about a woman but instead more about a place or places. You look at the song titles, from “Minnesota, WI” to “Wash.” to “Calgary” and “Lisbon, OH”, and whether they’re real or not, they all dictate a location. There’s controversy about whether or not this new album is titled “Bon Iver” or if it’s “Bon Iver, Bon Iver”, as if dictating that the band were a city and state unto themselves. Whatever the reality might be, this is an album that is searching for a home. We all get a little lost sometimes and become unsure of where to go or who to turn to. Consider this your travelling companion as you seek that refuge from whatever it is that is causing you distress. It is your port in a storm, your warm blanket when you are cold, or your moment of clarity amidst a sea of confusion. These are incredible songs composed with the utmost care and skill so as to hold consistent and thematically strong. If JUstin Vernon had just turned in another record filled with acoustic guitar ballads it would likely be very nice, but ultimately a little disappointing. Consistent development of your own sound is important, and Bon Iver have grown in big ways here. The influence of Vernon’s other projects is stamped on this album, but never to the point of open distraction or in such a way where we’d consider it anything else than something Bon Iver would do. The quietly graceful tone and how most of the songs blend into one another also helps to see this as a singular piece rather than a collection of individual songs. Standout first single “Calgary” may give you a good idea of how this record sounds, but to fully understand it requires at least one time through without any breaks or pauses or skipping. Allow yourself to be enveloped in the natural serenity it offers. Try to forget what you know, or think you know about this band and the sort of music they make, just to see if it resonates with you. If it does, maybe you can build a little home for it inside your heart.
There are thousands of female singer-songwriters out there, every single one of them hoping to find a big break. Most never make it beyond their own bedrooms, and it’s really the cream of the crop that tend to get enough notice to earn a record deal. Even then your future is by no means set in stone, as underperforming to label expectations can result in the plug being pulled from your deal. This unfortunate reality is one that Marissa Nadler knows all too well. Kemado released her 2009 album “Little Hells”, and while it was met with solid praise by those that heard it, apparently not enough people did hear it to satisfy her financial backers. So upon being dropped by her label, Nadler went on the offensive and did something that was relatively unheard of at the time: she asked fans to donate money via Kickstarter to help fund her next record. After reaching her goal, the rest of the pieces slid into place and became her fifth full length album.
As with any artist, not just female singer-songwriters, consistent innovation is the key to survival. Turn in the same record 3 or 4 times and people will write you off. Marissa Nadler has done exactly what she’s needed to across four albums, and now her self-titled new one continues that evolution. While gentle acoustic guitar and that gorgeous voice of hers are still the two main attractions in her songs, “Little Hells” saw her moving towards more lush and varied instrumentation. That trend continues here, with doses of everything from vibraphones to orchestration and a light dose of synthesizers. She’s not so much using more of these extra elements, but rather better at implementing them than before. A song like “Puppet Master” is a solid example of that, moving from a light acoustic guitar shuffle into something a little more retro and sprightly with some added playfulness via vibraphone. The fluid tempo changes along with a mood shift are just a couple of the ways this is a continued innovation from what’s come before. The way that opening track “In Your Lair, Bear” steadily builds in intricacy over the song’s duration without ever rushing or sounding out of place is a great testament as well to her maturity as an artist. Most others would not have pulled that off with such grace and poise.
There’s not much to be said about the development of Nadler’s voice, primarily because her beautifully calm yet disaffected presence has not changed much, if at all. In her higher octave ranges she still sounds very precious a la Joanna Newsom, but the way she juxtaposes that with darker and colder imagery is what helps to set her apart. The biggest way Nadler has grown from her last album is via her lyrics. The very impersonal and story-filled songs of her past now remove character names and fanciful elements to actually use the word “I” a whole bunch. Descriptions too are far more down to earth and realistic. Rather than going off on some obtuse and illogical sweep of romanticism, here she sees the forest for the trees and no longer reaches to those heights. That’s less to say she sounds defeated but more to say these songs become more easily relatable because they seem like she’s actually experienced them. When you’ve never truly loved before, there’s a wide-eyed innocence that permeates your world view and tends to make you believe that you’ll wind up in some sweeping epic of a relationship that’s just like the stars on the movie screen. The older and wiser you become in the ways of love, or alternately speaking the more you’ve had your heart broken, the more you come to realize what the real lessons to be learned are. So with songs like “Alabaster Queen” and “Baby I Will Leave You in the Morning”, Nadler is dealing with some of the tougher aspects of dealings between men and women. Despite its title, “Wedding” is not all magic, flowers and endless love, even if the downer of an implication is that sometimes people get married for the wrong reasons. It’s unfortunate that Nadler isn’t a more upbeat person in her songs, though if she were many of these songs might not be as effective.
With “Marissa Nadler” comes something of a plea. In spite of all the kind words that have been said about her in the past, present and presumably future, the fact remains that she’s one of those artists that is beloved by those that have heard her. The issue seems to be that not enough people have heard her. Sure, she raised enough cash to make this new record, but it wasn’t enough to keep her contract the last time around. Now pretty much entirely independent, there’s a distinct lack of promotion that tends to go along with that. In all likelihood this won’t be the last album we hear from her, but she may have to go around with her hand out asking for money again to help raise money for it. The hope is she won’t need to do that. Maybe you buy two copies of the record and give one to a friend. Maybe you just tell some friends about her. Whatever you can do individually to help her out so we don’t lose a talent like hers. Strong female singer-songwriters are not a dime a dozen, and the more you listen to their individual records the more you realize that it takes a certain special something to really connect with you in a meaningful way. Cat Power has it. So does Feist and Sharon Van Etten. And Marissa Nadler has it as well. Open yourself up to that power by giving her album a try.
If you’re going to call your band Fucked Up, you’d best earn the name. If you’ve ever seen Fucked Up’s live show, in which the not-tiny frontman Damien Abraham aka Pink Eyes typically strips down, jumps into the crowd and destroys things on stage, then that might be reason enough to justify the name. What’s perhaps the scariest and most threatening thing about the band though is how legitimately brilliant they are. Behind the captivating live show, Fucked Up don’t write energetic punk rock songs that thrive solely on instrumental mastery and wild vocals. They’re one of those rare bands that actually tries to make music with an intricately designed purpose. Their first album “Hidden World” was technically concept-free, but there were commonalities and themes present across it if you paid close enough attention. 2008’s “The Chemistry of Common Life” was thematically strident in its presentation of songs about the mysteries of birth and death as well as the origins of life and re-birth. As if that wasn’t already somewhat impressive, the band has also been steadily releasing 12″ singles as part of their “Zodiac” series, which started in 2006 and has continued at a rate of about 1 per year. Naturally, everything in the Zodiac series deals with whatever animal is up on the Zodiac chart for that particular year the song will be released. Where things really start to get heavy though is this past year, in which Fucked Up have been intensely working on their very own punk rock opera. A story was written, surrounding the character known as David, a man that has been the subject of a couple Fucked Up songs in the past. Leading up to the actual album though, this year’s Record Store Day saw the release of “David’s Town”, a “compilation” record that features a collection of fictional bands from David’s fictional hometown of Byrdesdale Spa, UK. The style of music was decidedly Britpop, though the boys in Fucked Up put it all together and had a series of guests come in to handle vocals which included Danko Jones, Ben Cook, Cloud Nothings and A.C. Newman. The lengths this band has gone to in an effort to make immensely smart and effective punk rock while also providing completely extraneous elements that appear to be more about fun than function, now THAT is fucked up. Give a close listen to the finally finished, 78-minute full concept that is “David Comes to Life”, and you’ll agree with that sentiment completely.
The story behind “David Comes to Life” isn’t 100% clear, but that seems to be the way that Fucked Up intended it. Spread out across four parts and 18 total tracks, we meet David Eliade, a worker at a light bulb factory in the UK who appears to be unhappy with his life. One day he meets Veronica, an outspoken rebel and Communist, and falls in love with her. Via her committment to her cause though, she winds up getting killed in a terrorist bombing, which crushes David emotionally. While he wallows in misery, he learns details surrounding Veronica’s death might not be as clear-cut as they first appeared. It all leads to the thrilling conclusion in which David finally learns the truth and becomes emotionally unburdened. That’s the broad view of the story, neglecting the many fine details that are layered across the entire record but are not always easily understood. There’s a whole thing about the narrator of the story telling one version of what happened vs. David’s version of what happened vs. David’s ex-girlfriend Vivian’s version of what happened, so if it makes total sense to you consider yourself lucky. Pink Eyes’ rough and tumble vocal style doesn’t help with translation much either, and you’re best off following along with a lyrics sheet rather than trying to hear every word that’s being sung. What also is a story without dialogue from other characters, which is why Cults’ Madeline Follin and singer/songwriter Jennifer Castle both lend their vocal talents to characters like Veronica and Vivian. That variation in perspective and singers is actually of great benefit on a record like this, helping to provide something a little smoother and more emotionally strident next to Pink Eyes’ attack dog method. Despite his “one note” style, Pink Eyes sounds better and more vital on this record than he ever has before, which at the very least says something about personal growth and an ability to adjust should the need arise.
The real challenges a record like “David Comes to Life” provide are more those of patience and virtue than anything else. Though divided into parts, the record as a whole is intended to be digested in a singular sitting. Translation: to properly listen to this album is to carve over an hour out of your day to focus on it. With all of its energy and intense moments, it’s a really thrilling 78 minutes and one that deserves to be heard straight through as often as you can. But should you need to break the record down to the bare essentials, those moments that will get you off the quickest because there’s only so much time, there are a few notable highlights to keep an ear out for. “Queen of Hearts” surges to life like a sharper, racing punk rock take on a Bruce Springsteen song. Titus Andronicus had something similar going with last year’s “The Monitor”, but that record doesn’t have quite the wall of guitars and visceral vocals this does. The hook is dynamic and effortlessly catchy, and Follin shines in her singular verse matched against your typical Pink Eyes throaty yell. A mere couple tracks later, “Turn the Season” is dark and powerful in the best sort of way, an emotional sea change that provides a strong pathway into the next chapter of the storyline. “Ship of Fools” is a fist-pumping anthem that featured a sharp mid-track guitar solo that helps motivate it to another level. The head-bobbing rhythm of “The Recursive Girl” makes it one of the more genuinely fun moments on the record, and the guitars are also scaled back just a tiny bit to give the melody just a little more room to breathe. By the time the final cut “Lights Go Up” crawls out with a backing vocal assist from Kurt Vile, there’s a brightness and celebratory air happening. Pink Eyes’ scream has turned from one of desperation, frustration and pain into something vital and life affirming. It’s not only a triumph for the main character of David, but also the band, having just conquered a mountain of a record. Hell, if you listen to the whole thing from start to finish you’ll feel that same sense of relief as the guitars slowly fade away into a single tone that beeps almost like a hospital heart monitor, slowly and steadily until it finally stops cold when the album does.
When you make a heavy concept record like “David Comes to Life”, you run a huge risk of having everything turn out disastrous. The Decemberists seemed to learn their lesson after putting out “The Hazards of Love” to mixed reviews, though many of the complaints were more about their constantly increasing rate of pretension rather than the legitimate quality of the music. One could argue that punk rock is a much more ideal format for the rock opera, given its expedient and noisy nature, we’re less inclined to care about hearing something truly innovative making it that much more of a surprise when we do. Green Day worked that angle to massive success with their album “American Idiot”, even if they faltered significantly with its equally conceived follow-up “21st Century Breakdown”. For Fucked Up, “David Comes to Life” represents the culmination of years of hard work and development, and thankfully it appears to be entirely worth it. The sheer steps from conception through execution have been nothing short of smart, and the songs are both effortlessly catchy and raw while simultaneously having to deal with the heavy story content required. “Tommy”. “Zen Arcade”. “Double Nickels on the Dime”. These are some of the big and legendary records “David Comes ot Life” has to match up with, and in effect, it has. Punk rock album of the year contenders, meet your frontrunner.
When properly structured, there are some records that automatically put you in a good mood. You could be having a seriously bad day, but find some time, throw on some headphones and a great album can transport you to a place of solace and comfort, both warming you with its embrace while also providing you with plenty of reason to smile. Matt & Kim are indie rock’s “first couple” when it comes to overzealous, super happy music, to the point where you’re often left doubting that any single person, let alone two people, could ever be THAT happy THAT much. Similarly, the early days of Los Campesinos! featured the English collective with their high energy pop songs and excessive use of the glockenspiel, and so many fell in love with that side of their personality, even if they’ve since branched out and gone a bit darker/heavier/slower recently. Among the many ways of describing such a feeling that this sort of music gives you, joyous and celebratory are two great adjectives to use. When it comes to 2011, particularly summer 2011, the band that should be on everyone’s smiling lips is Givers. Their debut album “In Light” is very much as the title describes, not to mention their cover art shows – a massive bright spot shines amidst a collection of stars and other space elements. Yes my friends, if you’re in need of a serious pick-me-up, here it is.
In the first 4.5 minutes of “In Light”, which amounts to the opening track and first single “Up Up Up”, there’s a whole host of instruments that show up and almost as quickly disappear in the mix to the point where if you blink you’ll miss them. The standard guitars and drums are just the beginning, and everything from handclaps to shakers to xylophones, keyboards and flutes all make an appearance at one point or another. The ultimate result shares a lot of qualities with Afropop, in that the moments the song settles into a groove you can easily imagine Vampire Weekend or Paul Simon trying the same thing. But the great part about the track is how it transcends that easier definition by throwing curveballs at you. Call it a hybrid between a number of different pop styles and then throw some seriously great vocal harmonies between Taylor Guarisco and Tiffany Lamson for an increased sense of beauty. So it’s complicated, beautiful AND fun? It’s one of the big reasons why Givers are a band to keep a close eye on. What makes this record even better is how the band continues to play with sounds and genres without firmly ascribing to any of them. They never stay in one place for too long, and it’s that inability to figure out exactly where they’ll go next that makes them so damn fascinating. That and their constant energy matched with some heavily catchy choruses makes for some stellar party music. One could argue that the sheer exuberance of this record and how Givers doesn’t really ever slow down until the second-to-last track is a problem, but since when is having too much enthusiasm detrimental? If anything, it’s impressive they’re able to keep it up for so long. You’ll likely get tired before they will, which is probably why some will take the band to task for that.
The way that Givers first began to get notice was when they opened a 2009 show in their home state of Louisiana for heroes of theirs, Dirty Projectors. If you find the obtuse charm of Dirty Projectors to be a little too strange for your taste, “In Light” is like an easier on the ears version of much of that band’s catalogue. You can especially hear it in the finger-picked electric guitar work on a track like “Noche Nada”, which in spots mimics Dave Longstreth’s best moments. The Dirty Projectors crew liked Givers so much based on that one show, they would eventually ask the band to join them for an east coast tour a few months later. They haven’t really stopped since then, and it’s almost a wonder that there was time to actually record “In Light”, for which they recruited producer Ben Allen, who is notable for working with Animal Collective and Deerhunter, among others. A big part of why Givers rarely take a break from touring is how easily they win over crowds. They’ve been raved about at SXSW and a whole host of other places, based primarily at the time on only having released a self-titled EP. Now that their full length is out, expect not just a lot more dates but for the crowds to continue to grow larger and larger. So much about “In Light” suggests that Givers are destined for not just big but HUGE things, which is why it would behoove you to start paying attention now, if you haven’t been already. The weather’s warm, the beaches are open, and this album wants to be your soundtrack. Between this and the self-titled debut from Cults, you’re not going to find two bands better equipped to entertain you for the season, if not the rest of 2011.
Two years ago, Black Lips reached an impasse. The fickle world of music lovers spat them out in a violent fashion akin to how the band members themselves often do with their own saliva on stage. If their 2007 album “Good Bad Not Evil” won them legions of new fans, the follow-up two years later with “200 Million Thousand” had close to the opposite effect. It seemed as if they were destined to become victims of the dreaded hype cycle, once beloved but soon after abandoned. Part of the problem with that last album (their fifth) was how content it seemed to be staying the course. The lack of ambition and conscious choice to maintain the same fuzz-riddled lo-fi sound from their last few records reeked of uninspired madness. Essentially it was a “fuck you” to those that thought Black Lips would change their sound now that they’d found success. With that plan having backfired, the band’s next move would need to be smart not only if they wanted to reclaim what they’d lost, but save what they were in danger of losing, which was their record deal. That explains why their new album “Arabia Mountain”, coldly calculated though it may be, is exactly the thing that Black Lips needed to revive everything they’d worked so hard to gain up until that point in time.
If you want to call anybody a hero in working to give Black Lips the kick in the teeth needed to make the necessary sonic adjustments for “Arabia Mountain”, Mark Ronson is the guy to point the finger at. The guy has worked with tons of people, most notably plenty of pop stars, to which he’s added a certain sheen to their sound that more often than not comes off as over polished. Still, he knows how to pull back on those reins when it’s warranted, and in the case of Black Lips, it absolutely was. You can’t go from super lo-fi to super clean without doing some serious damage to your long-time fans that love that no frills aesthetic. Yet the pairing of the two entities wasn’t nearly as earth-shattering as one might believe. Dust off some of that poorly recorded fuzz and buried underneath you’ll find a bunch of guitar pop songs. That and a mutual respect for the classic sounds of the 60s ultimately proved to be the bond necessary to bring out the best in Black Lips. Cleaner but not overly polished, lighter with more of a smirk than a frown, supercharged, addictive and more wide-ranging than ever, this is the band upgrading to version 2.0. Ronson may have had a fair share to do with it, but this record is still distinctly Black Lips through and through. These dynamic songs didn’t write and compose themselves, though somebody did throw a nice coat of wax on top to reveal the diamonds hiding underneath.
Saxophones really spice up opening track “Family Tree”, bringing a little madcap retro spice to a track that’s not only energetic, but downright danceable. One can envision girls in go-go boots on multi-colored dance floors doing what might otherwise be lovingly referred to as “The Pulp Fiction” (peace signs across the eyes). The buzzy guitar on “Modern Art” is eerily reminiscent of The Beatles or The Yardbirds, but the light touches of xylophone help bring a more contemporary feel to what’s ultimately a song about taking the wrong kind of drugs and wandering around an art gallery. If only all bad trips were this good (and addictive). The acoustic guitars providing the assist on “Spidey’s Curse” are a great addition to the track, and something that would likely have gotten lost in the mud of poor production quality in the past. If you’ve seen enough episodes of the old cartoon version of “Scooby Doo”, you’ll feel a special kinship to “Mad Dog”, primarily because it feels like one of those songs they’d play during a lengthy chase sequence where the mystery solving team keeps running and hiding from the monster that’s after them. That association isn’t brought up by the title of the song either, it’s mere coincidence, and matching that 60s-era sound doesn’t hurt either. Continuing to pull from that direction, “Raw Meat” sounds like a long-lost Ramones gem and the opening to “The Lie” comes weirdly close to copying Zeppelin’s “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” before taking a decidedly more psychedelic direction. And you’d be hard pressed to not think of The Rolling Stones when “Dumpster Dive” arrives, it apes that style oh so well. Even when their songs don’t recall specific and classic bands from the past, there’s plenty to get hooked on. “Go Out and Get It” and “New Direction” are hyper-catchy songs that will stay with you despite having so many other memorable highlights. It’s relatively easy to imagine massive crowds hearing songs like these when walking past the stage at a music festival and stopping in their tracks to keep listening.
Very legitimately, “Arabia Mountain” has suddenly become the piece de resistance for Black Lips. The winds have changed direction and now more than ever they’re on track to take over the world. They sound completely reinvigorated and more vital than ever. It’s amazing the creative spaces some artists will reach when the right sort of pressure is applied. Alternatively, “200 Million Thousand” is where an artist might go when the wrong sort of pressure is applied. When truly fighting for their livelihoods, these guys have stepped up and knocked one out in the best sort of way. Even completely ignoring the circumstances behind how they got to this point and judging this record as if it were some unknown band from Anywhere, USA, this is an album that is such a joy to listen to. Above all else, that’s the point: to have some fun, bounce around a bit, and go home tired but with melodies still running through your head. The only real issue “Arabia Mountain” has is with the sheer amount of music that’s on it. Clocking in at just over 40 minutes, it’s definitely not too long of an album, but there are probably a few too many tracks. A couple of the album’s 16 songs sound pretty similar and could have been cut without much of a problem. 12-14 songs would have been ideal, even if a 30 minute run time might have felt a little short. Quality over quantity, as the phrase goes. Other than that though, this is Black Lips operating at a level that nobody thought they could effectively reach, which is why “Arabia Mountain” is one of the most pleasant and best surprises of 2011 so far.
When Arctic Monkeys titled their third album “Humbug”, it was a telling sign. They had recorded the album with Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme out at his Joshua Tree studio in the California desert, and appropriately it was a dark, often psychedelic sojourn that divided much of the band’s fan base. Whereas you had previous songs titled things like “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” and “Brianstorm”, a song created about a weird guy they met one night while on tour, the last record featured “Crying Lightning” and “Fire and the Thud”, both written with the same sense of sincerity that their titles suggest. The point is, after reaching success as fresh-faced teenagers, Arctic Monkeys had grown up and were politely requesting to be taken seriously. In addition to many fans being turned off by that record, reviews were not strong either, suggesting this change was for the worse. Nearly two years later, the guys seem to have heard and registered that disappointment, creating their fourth record and settling on the title of “Suck It and See”. The phrase has its share of speculated origins, but at its heart is a bit of a joke with sexual undertones. Between that and song titles like “Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair” and “The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala”, it seems that Arctic Monkeys are back to their jovial, energetic selves that so many people fell in love with across their first two albums.
It’s fascinating that the first track from “Suck It and See” that Arctic Monkeys chose to release to the general public was “Brick By Brick”, a heavy-handed and psychedelic song fronted by drummer Matt Helders and very much in the spirit of the majority of “Humbug”. If the band was hoping to show some of the lessons they learned from that last album, “Brick By Brick” wasn’t the track to do that with. Taking that same sort of guitar crunch and applying it to some smartass lyrics helps quite a bit actually, as evidenced by “Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair”. Whether frontman Alex Turner is looking to, “Go into business with a grizzly bear” or “find a well-known hard man/and start a fight”, it makes for an entertaining listen even if it’s not quite catchy enough to be considered a strong single. What’s even more fascinating is how both those tracks are very much unlike the rest of the album. The teaching moment emerges in the thought that perhaps the band isn’t entirely done with some of the sounds and themes of their last record, or at the very least wanted to provide a more varied range of sounds that better encompassed their musical careers thus far.
What actually makes “Suck It and See” a record with serious forward momentum for Arctic Monkeys is how they present most of the songs on it. They’ve taken the focus away from riffing and dark instrumental passages to go lighter and snarkier, though even Turner’s lyrics are pushed farther into the background in the hopes that melody might reign supreme. The mid-tempo opening track “She’s Thunderstorms” is a lovely predictor of what’s to come on the rest of the album, and it has Turner pulling out his best Morrissey impression because it feels warranted. The bass-heavy “The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala” may have a rather bland (but easily memorable) chorus, but everything else about it is positively spectacular. The bounce and sheer confidence the band shows both lyrically and instrumentally makes it one of the album’s more standout moments. The heavier guitars and massive energy brought to “Library Pictures” is admirable, recalling some of the earliest Arctic Monkeys songs that got them so much attention upon first starting out. Unfortunately this song doesn’t quite have that same sort of impact, primarily because it lacks a strong enough hook to stick with you after it ends. The same could be said for a track like “Reckless Serenade”, but what it lacks in memorability it more than makes up for with rather brilliant lyrics. Couplets such as, “illuminations on a rainy day/when she walks her footsteps sing a reckless serenade” are what help to turn the tide on otherwise forgettable song. Even better is “Piledriver Waltz”, which holds the slow dance tempo its title suggests and espouses that, “if you’re going to try to walk on water, make sure you wear comfortable shoes”. If you’re looking for a true late album highlight though, the title track is the spot to go. There’s a casual loveliness to it, complete with a strong chorus and what might be the two most poetically classic lines on the entire record, “That’s not a skirt girl, that’s a sawn off shotgun/and i can only hope you’ve got it aimed at me”.
Perhaps the most fascinating thing about “Suck It and See” is how Arctic Monkeys appear to have mellowed out just a bit. The lack of heavy guitars and intense energy has given way to a much more pop-driven atmosphere. As a result many of the songs on this album are easy to like, even if they aren’t packed to the gills with hooks at every turn. For sure this is a slow burn album, revealing more and more layers as you listen to it over and over again. In that sense you could also call it a deep album, something that’s typically a product of intellingent songwriting and composition, both of which this record has in spades. If Alex Turner sounds all too often like Morrissey, it’s not your imagination, nor is it if you think you hear a bit of Johnny Marr’s touches in guitarist Jamie Cook’s riffs. If The Smiths were to make a record in 2011, it might sound an awful lot like this, even if the lyrics would have gone in a completely different direction. But this attitude adjustment from Arctic Monkeys does less to bring back their old days as an energetic, youthful alt-rock band with a hunger for stardom a mile wide, and instead reflects more on a band that having tasted fame and fortune now seek mid-career respectability. Turner’s lyrics continue to be the sharpest thing about the band, and the challenges they now face are more structural ones than anything else. A couple tracks on the record either don’t fully fit in or just come off as bland and ineffective. These are the sorts of things that can happen when you avoid taking too many risks and just settle into complacency. Arctic Monkeys are still plenty young and clearly still have long careers ahead of them, so they can probably afford trying a few more dangerous sounds for their next few efforts. Let’s hope they take advantage of that while their iron is still hot.
You may have heard of Ford & Lopatin before, whether you know it or not. The two sides of this penny have been pretty well known for some work they’ve done previously, with Joel Ford having been a member of the band Tigercity and Daniel Lopatin making music under the moniker Oneohtrix Point Never. Outside of that, the duo have also been recording together for a little while now but using the name Games. After a series of mixtapes and and other general messing around in a studio, last year’s Games EP “That We Can Play” attracted some strong attention amongst the online community, bringing the appropriate hype along with it. Attached to that hype came some serious threats of lawsuits, because as you might expect the word “games” is far more common than you’d think, and also perhaps some of the samples they used weren’t entirely above board. So Ford & Lopatin it is, the combination of which is uncommon enough to where they can avoid any legal implications. Their official debut full length is titled “Channel Pressure”, and if you closely examine the cover art or just think of their old name Games, you should gain a surprisingly strong grasp of what the record might sound like.
Take one part electronica, another part 80s synth pop, and mix them together with a number of sonic elements that might otherwise be most at home on classic video games circa Atari or original Nintendo, and you’ve got the majority of what Ford & Lopatin are doing all over “Channel Pressure”. In order to best understand this sort of music, it really helps if you lived through it. As a child of the 80s, hopefully at some point you stayed up all night playing video games either at a friend’s house or at your own, depending on who had a system and what games. That was almost an essential part of any boy’s upbringing back in those days, and it’s those fond times that are triggered when listening to this record. It also helps if you’ve at least seen movies like “The Wizard” (starring Fred Savage) and “Tron” (the original) for what might best be described as “incidental music points” on the soundtrack. Like those movies and like those old video games, there wasn’t a whole lot going on in the way of vocals or lyrics, but sometimes if you kept listening to a particular song the instrumental would stick in your head anyways. Ford & Lopatin allow synth-laden instrumentals to take up most of “Channel Pressure”‘s running time, but they do make a concerted effort to bring in vocals whenever possible. Ford handles some of the singing, but Jeff Gitelman of The Stepkids and the effortlessly strange Autre Ne Veut each contribute a little bit as well, working to make this a much more traditional pop record than anything they’ve done in the past.
The way the songs on “Channel Pressure” are patterned is primarily in a staggered fashion, in which the instrumentals tend to fill in gaps or connect two songs with vocals. The first half of the album features three distinct highlights, all of them being the songs in which actual singing takes place (the chopped up “singing” that takes place on the title track doesn’t really count). For a first single, “Emergency Room” is remarkably fun and light, despite the darker content of the lyrics. The energy and strong bassline practically challenge you not to dance, while the swirling, woozy electro-synth bits in the background knock the track off-kilter in a fascinating way. The consistent repetition of the chorus helps too towards making this one of the record’s best and most memorable moments. The same cannot be said for “Too Much MIDI (Please Forgive Me)”, a song that gets by less on a hook-filled chorus and more courtesy of a generally strong groove that feels just a shade off something New Order would have done back at the height of their popularity. Tears for Fears is probably the best comparison to make when talking about “The Voices”, what with how the synths are layered and the few shimmering bells that pop up each time the remarkably catchy chorus rolls around. Paired directly next to the disco funk of “Joey Rogers”, it’s remarkable how two of the album’s most engaging tracks show up in the middle rather than at the more preferred junctures of the beginning or end. Still, the quality does drop just a little after that, with only Ne Veut’s surprisingly stable vocal turn on “I Surrender” and the pulsating, glitchy “World of Regret” providing moments worthy of being called great. In total that makes just under half the record worthy of your time, while the rest ranges anywhere from smooth transitional material to outright throwaways. The way those bigger moments are spread out across the duration of the album is immensely smart though, the little breadcrumb trails of delight just providing enough inspiration to keep you interested until the next one rolls around.
The good, if not great news for Ford & Lopatin is that “Channel Pressure” on the whole works better than it has any right to. Even when it’s not hitting the marks it needs to, the overall form and consistency of the record helps to make it stable. The outright pop songs they have put together are pretty great too. What should be of concern is how it apes so much of the excellent synth pop from the 80s yet fails to carve its own territory out of that niche. This album is unique if only because few if any artists are making music like this anymore. It is the bygone product of a bygone time, but in the sense that everything old is new again, Ford & Lopatin make a strong argument for bringing it back. They’re just hoping enough people will agree with them.
“Highly Suspicious” is by far the most highly suspicious song in My Morning Jacket’s catalogue. That song, off the band’s last album “Evil Urges”, had notable issues in both the way it was sung (in the highest of high falsettos) and with the lyrics as well (“peanut butter surprise”). For a band with such a consistent career of wild experimentation among their albums yet always remaining within the boundaries of good taste and reason, it appeared they had finally jumped the proverbial shark and reached the wrong side of good taste. Of course that record also produced the absolutely brilliant “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream, Pt. 2” an 8-minute freak out of a closing track that ranked among the band’s best material. Still, Jim James & Co. seemed to recognize that their last record was not their finest, and thus have been touting their new one “Circuital” as a return to everything that made them great. While it does come off as more “Z” than “Evil Urges”, some of the more grating moments of the last album do come out and play from time to time, once again sabotaging an attempt at brilliance.
There’s a false sense of security that My Morning Jacket sucks you into from the beginning of “Circuital”. The opening track “Victory Dance” is hypnotic in how it draws you in, first with a lone keyboard and James’ vocal, then slowly rolling out into the expanse over the course of the next few minutes. The next thing you know, five minutes have passed, there’s a huge instrumental swell and suddenly the track is over almost before you realize it had begun. Strange how that works sometimes. But if there’s a quintessential MMJ song on this entire record, it’s the 7+ minute title track, which contains so much of what this band has done right over the last several years. The bright acoustic guitar brings a highway vibe to the song, and the eventual intrusion of the jagged electric guitar solos along with some waterfalls of piano notes are pure magic. There may not be any obscene stretches of James’ vocal range as he’s done on occasion, but in this case it’s not particularly required. If they wrote an entire album’s worth of songs as amazing as that title track, it’d be the band’s best with relative ease, and that’s with an already strong catalogue. Unfortunately this story ends in tragedy, particularly because not a single other track on the album cracks skulls open and explodes out of them with fully expanded wings. That’s not to say the rest of the songs on the album are all of poor quality, but a better way to put it might be to mention a distinct lack of highlights on the album’s second half.
Before we tackle that though, there are still a handful of rock solid My Morning Jacket songs on “Circuital” worth mentioning. Despite its general state of acoustic quiet, “Wonderful (The Way I Feel)” makes great use of Jim James’ voice, something that the rest of the record cannot quite boast. There’s a surprisingly large gap between how James’ vocals are used on this album (and earlier ones) versus how dynamic and wide-ranging they are live. At the very least it’s nice to hear his full talents being put to betterm nire realistic uses. As for the drug tale “Outta My System”, it contains a fair amount of humor that MMJ likes to throw in on occasion. Assuming you “get” their style of comedy, it makes for one of the most fun tracks on the record. Moving from that to the interesting and moderately goofy “Holdin’ on to Black Metal” creates a dynamic 1-2 punch that only misses the mark slightly. That first single, complete with children’s choir and falsetto vocals, can be grating to some. If neither of those things annoy you, it actually makes for a rather catchy and likeable track that’s easily better than any of the official singles released on “Evil Urges”. The “lesson” the song teaches about never giving up on heavy metal music feels as if it was written in a tongue-in-cheek fashion, which is definitely better than assuming outright sincerity.
The energy held on “First Light” and “You Wanna Freak Out” keep “Circuital” from rolling completely off the tracks, but ultimately both songs are rather bland and formulaic from a band that tends to avoid doing either. If My Morning Jacket were to hammer out a very commercially acceptable pop record with little regard for all the talent they have and have shown throughout the years, those two songs would fit in very well. They’re easy on the ears and pleasant to a fault. If there was ever a place for a wild guitar solo or even just a jam session, those would have been the spots to put them. The end of the record slows things down significantly, starting first with the properly titled “Slow Slow Tune”. In spite of temptations to write a song like that off, it’s James’ wounded and heartfelt vocal performance that saves it from becoming a total wreck. Closing with “Movin Away” however doesn’t do much for anybody. The glacial pace at which it moves sounds like the band is altogether tired and uninspired.
When placed in direct comparison with “Evil Urges”, “Circuital” is an improvement. Not that big of one, but better than expected. It may be even easier to think of these songs having a combination of elements from the band’s last couple records. What’s unfortunate is that this is coming from a band that has always tended to look forwards rather than backwards. Given that this is their sixth album though, they can be a little forgiven for scaling back just a little on any big ideas. You can only evolve so much before you start running low on new areas to mine. Still, for a band with the famous line from “Wordless Chorus” that says, “We are the innovators/they are the imitators”, there’s a lot more imitating than innovating going on here. Yet it’s self-imitation, and to be fair a lot of this stuff still sounds pretty damn great even if it’s been done before. There are no flagrant mistakes that ever take you out of the record, just a few more mediocre moments that don’t quite hit their mark. Nevertheless, this band is anything if not resilient and the future still burns brighter than ever for them even if they fail to return to peak condition.
It’s kind of amazing to think that the movie version of “Into the Wild” came out all the way back in 2007. It seems almost like yesterday. Time flies sometimes. But with the release of that Sean Penn-directed film came an interesting artifact in the form of Eddie Vedder’s first solo record. Of course whether or not it officially counts as a solo album is up for debate, primarily because he was asked to write songs specifically for the movie, which also meant a few incidental instrumentals. The subject matter of that record too was strongly nature-related, and a huge complaint was that the hippie “mother earth” vibes took away from what might otherwise have been good songs about other things. So there were a few issues with that soundtrack, but the one positive that came out of it was having Eddie Vedder really get away from the Pearl Jam mode he’s been in for so long and do something different by himself. He soon returned to that mode with Pearl Jam’s last record “Backspacer”, but while we wait for the next one, Ed Ved has decided to release a record of songs he recorded on the ukulele over the course of the last 10 years. Many of them are originals and a few are covers as well, and he’s got a couple friends like Glen Hansard of The Frames/Swell Season as well as Chan Marshall of Cat Power to help him out. First inspired by his hero Pete Townshend of The Who’s ukulele song “Blue Red and Grey”, the initial plan was just to mess around with the four stringed mini guitar. Starting with the song “Soon Forget” on Pearl Jam’s 2000 record “Binaural”, Vedder kept penning new songs over the years and finally decided to put them all out on a record he’s aptly titled “Ukulele Songs”.
Clocking in just short of 35 minutes, “Ukulele Songs” spans 16 tracks and features 5 covers. True to its title, every single song is performed on the ukulele and only the ukulele, with the exception of “Longing to Belong”, which also features a cello. The whole point is for the record to showcase a love affair with this singular instrument, and in that sense you might even consider this to be yet another fake out in terms of actual Eddie Vedder solo material. By restricting himself to this tiny guitar, we’re left deprived of what he might have been able to do and explore were unlimited resources at his disposal. Still, what this album really provides us with is a chance to alternately examine both Vedder’s voice and words. Here he’s no longer pounding us into the ground with nature imagery, but instead primarily taking on the role of a heartbroken man that simply yearns to be loved. The subject matter is vastly different from Pearl Jam material too, and that’s likely why he’s chosen to wear his heart on his sleeve when on his own. The thing is, with so little to sustain the material, listening to even a half hour of Vedder pouring his heart out can register as a tad boring and repetitive and even a little depressing. Spaced out into chunks though, the intimacy and the emotional heft are surprisingly inviting, like you’re having a one-on-one musical performance on the beach by the campfire.
The first quarter of the record starts with a redone version of the “Riot Act” song “Can’t Keep” that’s interesting to say the least. “Sleeping By Myself” and “Without You” are also two of the most fully realized cuts on this album, placing songcraft and emotion at the forefront where they need to be. A number of radio stations are playing “Longing to Belong” on the air as a single, and given the gorgeous nature of it as a mid-record gem that makes sense. Vedder’s duet with Glen Hansard courtesy of the Gram Parsons/Emmylou Harris classic “Sleepless Nights” also makes for one of the more standout moments on the album, as is his cover version of “Tonight You Belong to Me” done with Cat Power. You may remember that one from the comedy classic “The Jerk”, though the song had been recorded by a number of artists before that movie as well as after. The short, 90 second cover of the long-time staple “Dream A Little Dream” makes for a fine album closer, even if Vedder sounds just a little bored with it vocally.
While “Ukulele Songs” is nice in how it allows us to hear a different side of Eddie Vedder, the fundamental issue is whether or not we were looking to discover this new perspective. See, not every revelation is a good one, and in the case of this album of primarily hurt and wounded songs makes a hardened rock star seem soft and sensitive. Some might like that look on him, but others hoping for the same sort of Vedder we’ve all come to know and love will be sorely disappointed. Throw in that limited range ukulele and it makes the record that much more of a challenge to enjoy. Still, there are pleasant moments, along with a handful of tracks that if placed together would have made for a great EP. Let’s hold out hope that if Vedder does choose to try another “solo” album, he does it properly next time with a bunch more instruments and songs that express a wider range of emotions than what we’re handed here.
Just because you’re living somewhere doesn’t mean it’s home. As the common idiom states, “Home is where the heart is”. In that sense, the place doesn’t so much matter because it’s what and who you have with you that defines home. Many explorers throughout the ages have gone on quests, journeys and adventures seeking new lands and uncharted territories. It was the sense of the untouched, the discovery of something new that was a driving force, but for many it was also a case of wanderlust. You keep moving from place to place in the hopes that you’ll eventually reach a destination that suits you so well you never want to leave. Some restless people find it while plenty of others do not, destined to keep moving for the rest of their lives. But there are also some that are comfortable with where they are. They’ve got a great job, family close by, maybe even their own family, a lovely house in a lovely part of town, and they couldn’t envision uprooting any of that. Some would call those people lucky, while others might best define them as naive, only settled in because they have no idea that something better is out there. Death Cab for Cutie have written songs about places before, whether it was the anti-Los Angeles anthem “Why You’d Want to Live Here” or direct references to locations like “Lowell, MA” and “Coney Island”. They’ve traveled around the world touring in support of six previous records, and you might think that would help them best define where the best place to settle down might be. It’s fascinating then that the guys picked up stakes and moved away from their home state of Washington, relocating to L.A. instead. Sure, with their ever-increasing popularity and a major label record deal in pocket they could afford to live in a city filled with Hollywood glitz and glamour, but it does seem like the antithesis of what they (or at least Ben Gibbard) were strongly against a mere 10 years ago. Times change and people change too, particularly Gibbard, who in the three years since the band’s last record “Narrow Stairs” made the decision to give up drinking and then got married to actress Zooey Deschanel. Both those things appear to have improved his mood significantly on the new Death Cab album “Codes and Keys”, but while his outlook may be sunnier, there’s still an undercurrent of restlessness present on many of the songs. Los Angeles may be growing on him, but that’s not stopping him from searching for a place he truly feels can be defined as home.
If you’ve spent any significant amount of time in Los Angeles, you’ll know that in most places you go, access is king. Having the right code or the proper key will often get you past the proverbial “velvet rope”. “With walls/built up around us/the bricks make me nervous/they’re only so strong, love,” Gibbard worries on opening track “Home Is A Fire”. The concern there is more about earthquakes, as more specifically defined in the song’s chorus, which has the lines, “Plates they will shift/houses will shake”. But his concern appears to be less about his own safety and more for those he loves and cares about, which is admirable. He’d rather live someplace else, only “there’s nowhere left to go”. Metaphorically speaking, the tectonic plates have already shifted, and Gibbard’s world has changed because of it. He’s become trapped beneath the rubble of Los Angeles, complete with its extensive gated communities and celebrity culture in which high walls, both physical and mental, are built to keep other people out rather than in. Holding others at a distance carries over into the “Codes and Keys” title track, though the subject matter deals more with two people trying to protect themselves from the rest of the world. “You’re on the floor/fearful of what’s outside your door/but the codes and keys/they can’t protect you from the pangs of jealousy,” sings Gibbard in one of his more empathetic tones. Trapping yourself inside a house doesn’t mean all the evil can’t get past your front door, and you can just as easily suffocate (go crazy) spending all your time in such an enclosed space. So the world and all it’s problems are essential to survival, but the lesson here is that relying on a partner to help you navigate such treacherous terrain can make it easier and better. On “Doors Unlocked and Open”, Gibbard brings up a lot of open road imagery, from “dotted lines/seas of concrete” to “mile markers/counting down”, seeming to seek a place of isolation. His ultimate conclusion, it seems, is that the only place where we can “be free with doors unlocked and open” is by going “down in the ocean of sound”. Apparently not even moving out of the “gilded crowns” of California can provide him with the safety and comfort he so desperately seeks. First single “You Are A Tourist” seeks to teach us a similar lesson, because, “if you feel just like a tourist/in the city you were born then it’s time to go/And define your destination/there’s so many different places to call home”.
Once “Codes and Keys” reaches its halfway point with “Unobstructed Views”, there appears to be a sea change that happens. The song itself is a tried and true ode to love and relationships, and one could certainly assume Gibbard wrote it with his wife in mind. In fact, for much of the second half of the album there are ruminations on love and being happy with a partner. By far the best written song on the entire record comes in the form of “Monday Morning”, primarily because it works in little details that you can tell have deep emotional significance attached to them. In providing comfort to his lady when she expresses concerns about growing older and her looks fading, Gibbard says, “But all these lines and greys refine/They are the maps of our design/of what began on a Monday morning”. And connecting the threads and overall theme the album seems to echo, lines like, “I am a bird that’s in need of grounding/I’m built to fly away/I never learned how to stay”, suggests that once he finally got into this relationship and found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, she helped him to find his home. As a wild animal roams the earth with no sense of place or direction, she brought him in from the wild and domesticated him, giving him something he never thought was possible before. This lesson is best taught in “Underneath the Sycamore”, in which Gibbard reflects on what this love has done to him. “Oh I was such a wretched man/Searching everywhere for a homeland/But now we are under the same sun/Feel it through the leaves let it heal us,” he sings knowingly. The final lines of the song mimic the final moments of a film or the last few pages of a book in how they appear to wrap up the storyline with relative neatness. After acknowledging that neither person in this relationship is perfect by any means, now they’re here under this sycamore tree, “Where we find our peace/This is where we are released”. What follows is more of a joyous epilogue, particularly on closing track “Stay Young, Go Dancing”. Given Gibbard’s previously admitted distaste for Los Angeles, it’s fitting he opens the song with the lines, “Life is sweet in the belly of the beast/and with her song in your heart/it can never bring you down”. The location might not be ideal, but his love for this woman protects him from whatever darkness might come their way. He also keeps things upbeat, trying to make sure we’re all aware that youth isn’t about how young you look on the outside, but how you feel on the inside. It’s the same sort of platitude echoed earlier about finding yourself a home – the location matters far less than the people and things you have as part of your life.
So after a close analysis purely based on the words that Ben Gibbard has written and without any sort of confirmation as to how autobiographical they might be, there is a whole other side to “Codes and Keys” that’s absolutely worth exploring: the actual sound of the record. Interviews with the band prior to the release of this album all say that there was a different approach to the instrumental side of this collection of songs. Inspired by more electronic-based recordings from Brian Eno, New Order and David Bowie, Death Cab for Cutie chose to scale back their use of guitars significantly this time around, focusing more on keyboards and other non-stringed instruments. There are some programmed beats in addition to the live drumming at different points, and you can even hear touches of things like electronic gurgles that would make you think of Radiohead’s “Kid A” if it weren’t so Death Cab-ish. Somehow the band has been able to keep their sound largely intact while playing around with a host of different melodies that are by no means guitar-centric. The electro skittering in the background on “Home Is A Fire” is one of the more exciting things in an otherwise subdued album opener, and something you might not notice unless you were paying close attention. There is some light orchestration on the title track that is a healthy addition to the pounding piano and drums that form the basis for the main melody. Even on a song like “Some Boys”, which features lyrics that feel like they belong on one of the last two Death Cab albums instead of this one, the pulsating electronic bits mixed with piano and only brief stabs of guitar turns the track into something rather winning and catchy. The opening instrumental portion of “Doors Unlocked and Open” has a really weird familiarity to it, almost like something you’d head in a hybrid between Broken Social Scene and The Dodos. Nick Harmer’s bass work on the track is particularly exceptional, and that driving force is what largely elevates the song to one of the album’s highlights. When “Unobstructed Views” shows up as the record’s six minute centerpiece, the purely electronic open makes it easy to recall Gibbard’s other project The Postal Service, but there’s also enough different about it to keep you from getting the two bands confused. The song’s spacey ambience and grand piano intensity provides a perfect turnkey melody signaling the shift from the aimless vagabond themes in part one to the earthbound focused love of part two. The buzzy synths and keyboards of “Monday Morning” succeed at keeping the melody light and airy, strongly matching the charm and whimsy felt at the start of a new relationship. The very sparse keyboards (and nothing else) in the first half of “St. Peter’s Cathedral” bring an air of intimacy to the track that carries over into the much fuller second half of the song. It’s no quiet acoustic of “I Will Follow You Into the Dark”, but it’s as close to a one-on-one moment Gibbard gets on this record. The acoustic guitar bounce of “Stay Young, Go Dancing”, with splashes of piano and strings really bring out the upbeat nature of the song and ensure that the record closes with the warmth of a wink and a smile from a really good friend.
The good, nay, great news about “Codes and Keys” is that it sounds a whole lot like a very revived Death Cab for Cutie. Like a professional athlete that was sidelined with an injury after three or four seasons, the band almost seemed like they were playing hurt the last couple records. Less pop-driven and even more depressing than usual, “Narrow Stairs” was a low for these guys, and perhaps a wake up call. They took their time, got proper bed rest, and committed to returning to the music game in full health. With this record, it appears they have succeeded. This is easily their best since “Transatlanticism”, and perhaps even earlier than that. What makes this album particularly challenging to judge however is trying to remove any personal bias from music created for everybody. Long time Death Cab fans will admit that as with most artists, certain albums can mean more or less to you depending on your own personal place in life at the time. If you heard “The Photo Album” for the first time in college back in the day and it strongly resonated with you, ten years later and with a 9-5 job “Codes and Keys” might not strike you on that same level. In all likelihood, it probably won’t. Or maybe you were 18 and thought “Plans” was insanely good back in 2005 and can’t “get into” the band’s earlier stuff. Don’t think that Ben Gibbard, Chris Walla, Nick Harmer and Jason McGerr are staying the same age either, though their grand hope is probably that as they grow old gracefully and add new twists to their own sound, that long time fans also growing older will be on that same path. In an ideal world new fans would keep the cycle going as well. The great news is that there is some significant growth from the band here, and that in itself is nice to hear. The more positive outlook in terms of lyrics and themes is nice as well. Are they doing enough of any of those things? Not really, but they’ve got a major label record contract to worry about, as well as fans they don’t want to take too far down the rabbit hole for fear of alienating them. So from the widest of widescreen viewpoints, Death Cab for Cutie have done well here. They’re firing on all cylinders once again, may peace and blessings be showered upon them. Now if only they’d do something about that far-too-scripted live show.
As oh so many bands know in this day and age, hype can be a very dangerous thing. The cycles move so quickly that you can wind up abandoned just as fast as you were picked up. One of the biggest success stories as of late has been Cults. The duo of Madeline Follin and Brian Oblivion first met in San Diego, transplanted themselves to New York, and quietly composed some music they were self-conscious about sharing with anyone. When they finally did hand over a couple tracks to friends, those songs eventually made their way to the inbox of Chris at Gorilla Vs. Bear, who made quick moves to sign them to his brand new label Forest Family. The “Go Outside” 7″ single turned Cults from unknowns to one of the most hyped acts online in a matter of weeks. The buzz was and remained high for such an extended period that many larger labels sought to sign the band, with Columbia ultimately winning out (and Lily Allen’s label In the Name Of getting UK distribution rights). The hype has died down somewhat, given the amount of time that passed between their initial impact and what will finally be their self-titled debut out the first week in June, but one gets the sense that Cults wanted it that way. The initial impact may be lessened as a result, but this band appears to be in it for the longer haul anyways.
Those that have been paying close attention to the comings and goings of Cults in the last year will likely have already heard the first three tracks on their debut full length. If perchance you missed them, Soundcloud seems to be your friend. Starting with “Abducted”, things take on a very lo-fi aesthetic for the first 40 seconds of the song. It sounds like a microphone was placed in the middle of a room and Oblivion stood on one side playing his acoustic guitar and Follin stood on the other singing and playing a glockenspiel. There’s an all natural impact straight into full stereo sound though, complete with everything cozying up to your traditional studio quality. That’s also the first time the immensely catchy chorus hits, sucking you in not only to the track but the album itself, done in the most lively and fun way possible. That’s the first big sign that Cults appear to be more than just a flash in the pan act with one great single. Speaking of that one great single, “Go Outside” is next, and it’s as hard-hitting and wonderful as ever. If you thought you listened to it too many times last year, taking a short break and returning to it finds the song in just as great of a form as when you left it. With a whole new set of fans ready to discover this band, expect to hear a lot more “Go Outside”. For “You Know What I Mean”, the band makes a much more defined statement as to what the rest of the record will sound like. While anything you’ve heard prior only hinted at it, this is the track that feels truly retro, reaching back to the girl groups of the 60s for inspiration. It’s a very sweet and again catchy song where the waltzy pace, combined with Follin’s syrupy vocals and some well-placed finger snaps only enhance the impact. Those intimately familiar with the “Go Outside” 7″ single from last year will also recognize the b-side “Most Wanted” showing up towards the middle of the record. The retro style continues with a positively lovely piano and glockenspiel groove that mixes together rather effortlessly with everything from keyboards to a light touch of cello.
Nothing else on “Cults” is as strong as those first few tracks hitting you one after the other like a boxer with tremendous speed and agility. Just because there’s not another massive, drool-inducing single on the second half of the record doesn’t mean that it’s slouching in any way whatsoever. It’s like walking into a room full of supermodels and then exiting to find a group of very beautiful women on the other side. They may not be supermodels, but they’re still very satisfying to hear. There are no flat out ugly songs on this album, and being entirely listenable not to mention enjoyable from front to back is a rarity to accomplish anyways. At 35 minutes too, it’s a breeze to get through and you’re almost naturally inclined to hit the play button again and restart the thing. Earworms such as “Never Heal Myself” and the sprinkled electronics of “Oh My God” continue to make strong use of the glockenspiel and help push the band’s material from an indie pop range into something people will likely call twee. There is that certain preciousness present in most of the songs, particularly the Belle and Sebastian-leaning man/woman call-and-response of “Bumper”, but the bits of darkness found within the lyrics help to lessen the cute factor. There’s a distinctive fear echoed in a few of the songs that deals with a range of topics. Relationships is a big one, but also growing up and more general ways we live our lives all have bits of apprehension or paranoia associated with them. Follin wonders, “What’s wrong with my brain/cause I seem to have lost it” on “You Know What I Mean”, and doubts her ability to be genuine on “Never Heal Myself” with the lines, “I could never be myself, so fuck you”. The small bit of irony is how the line is sung, with Follin keeping sassy in a song that feels decidedly upbeat and cheerful.
Most of “Cults” maintains that same lighthearted nature, melodies bouncing along practically oblivious to some of the more ominous lyrics paired alongside it. That’s just one part of the appeal of this band and why their debut is so great. The songs they’re making aren’t necessarily doing much if anything new that we haven’t heard before, it’s the WAY they’re doing it that makes them more compelling than average. A little twist on the verse-chorus-verse here, a little extra instrument popping up there, and it goes a much longer way than you might think. There’s also a strong unifying principle across these 11 tracks in the similar qualities that they share. Nothing sounds like it doesn’t belong there, and it’s oddly reminiscent of another much-hyped band’s debut record last year, Sleigh Bells’ “Treats”. Oddly enough, Shane Stoneback produced both “Treats” and “Cults”, though his work on the latter record was much more of a tweaking role than a sonic shift. But while Sleigh Bells and Cults essentially sound nothing alike, the emotions that both their records evoke are close to one another. It’s the energetic, party vibe that makes you want to throw on a pair of sunglasses and spend some serious time outdoors. Seasonally speaking, both are very much summer albums as well, making now the perfect time for Cults to be putting this out there. Prepare for the hype cycle to once again start fresh for these two, because as their self-titled debut proves, Cults are the real thing. Be a good boy or girl and drink the Kool-Aid like the rest of us.
Feel free to call Thurston Moore an old man. He may only be in his early 50s, but in rock star years, he’s closer to 70. Sure, you’ve still got your classics out and about still making music, your Paul Simons, your Bob Dylans and your Paul McCartneys, but they come so few and far between these days. It’s better to think of aging rock stars when they’re in a band, because the collective whole provides you with a stark legacy and a lack of focus on a particular individual. The last Sonic Youth record, for example, 2009’s “The Eternal”, did not seem like it came from a band that’s now officially 30 years old in and of itself without taking into account how old everyone was by the time they started. And while you have to essentially weigh any new stuff based on what came before it, we really only think of career highlights rather than the entire catalogue, particularly when dealing with 10+ records. In the case of Thurston Moore it’s even more, thinking about his already numerous solo efforts along with the Sonic Youth stuff. Perhaps the biggest and most pertinent question to be asking is how somebody like Moore can keep creating new music without surrendering to complacency or repeating the same old tricks. His new record “Demolished Thoughts” seeks to provide something close to an answer to that question.
One of the more interesting tidbits about “Demolished Thoughts” is that it was produced by Beck Hansen, otherwise known as simply Beck. He and Moore have never worked together before, and it’s a strange wonder as to why that is. It’s clear from this record that the combination of the two is an inspired pairing, and you can hear both of their influences present even if it is Moore doing all of the heavy lifting. The easiest and most favorable comparison you can make given the circumstances is to Beck’s “Sea Change”, a largely acoustic effort with small flourishes of orchestral beauty. There are even brief brushes of harp mixed in, and it is surprisingly graceful and oddly cohesive. And while most of the songs bear a quiet, almost folk-driven psychedelia (track lengths range from 4 minutes to nearly 7), there are moments of vigorous energy and sharp electric guitar. “Circulation” is naturally one of those tracks that gets your blood flowing, and it calls to mind a handful of old Sonic Youth cuts in the process. The same could be said for “Orchard Street”, though that’s more like a subdued acoustic rendition of an unreleased Sonic Youth song. Of course both those make perfect sense, as Moore also tends to save up tracks that are either rejected by or simply won’t quite work in his main band’s canon.
Just because a track isn’t moving along at a moderate pace doesn’t mean it lacks energy though. A song like “Blood Never Lies” glistens in the sunlight akin to a dew-covered flower at the start of a new day. The harps and strings on “Illuminine” create glowing pinpricks of light in an otherwise pitch black night. It’s the lush warmth that pulls that and many other songs on “Demolished Thoughts” out from the proverbial gutter of depression. An Elliott Smith album this is not, even if the topics of growing older and struggling to find happiness seem to permeate the highly poetic lyrics. What separates it out from your otherwise standard folk-indebted fare are the intelligent ways each song comes together to both acknowledge and destroy what we might otherwise expect from these genre tropes. Like how “Orchard Street” takes an extended instrumental detour for the entire last half of the song. Or maybe the way a light echo is applied to Moore’s voice on “In Silver Rain With A Paper Key” to better illustrate the loneliness and isolation the lyrics speak of. You’ve got to hand it to Beck, who most assuredly had something to do with these little extra touches that help turn very good songs into excellent ones.
It’s worth noting that most of Thurston Moore’s solo career has been of mixed to poor quality. He seems to use the time away from Sonic Youth as a testing ground or an idea dump, which has had a tendency to leave him seeming scatterbrained or incoherent. 2007’s “Trees Outside the Academy” was a lot like that, with a few solid songs smashed between a horde of attempts. There was no real theme or connection between the tracks, just sketch after sketch appearing to resemble something whole. That’s not to say it was a terrible record – in fact it was far from it. Compared with “Demolished Thoughts” though, it’s night and day. These new songs feel well thought out and purposeful, and though they may not be the most upbeat things, they never dwell too long in one darkened corner. It is actually one of the rare times a Moore solo record works on all pistons, giving a clear legitimacy to the venture and providing another outlet through which die hard Sonic Youth fans can get something of a fix. He may be getting up there in rock star years, but from the sound of it this “old guy” clearly has plenty of fight left in him.
In the long-standing tradition of “ampersand” groups, the last few decades have spawned everything from Simon & Garfunkel to Hall & Oates, Matt & Kim, and Iron & Wine. There are tons more, but in terms of jumping off the page at you, it’s a fair set of examples. Often failing to earn a mention among these duos or full bands are Damon & Naomi, otherwise known as Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang. You can rarely get through a piece about them without hearing how they were the two members of the seminal late 80s/early 90s underground band Galaxie 500 whose name wasn’t Dean Wareheim. People loved Galaxie 500 despite their very short-lived history, and as Wareheim has gone onto his own ampersand band Dean & Britta with his wife (I’ll give you one guess as to what her first name is), Damon & Naomi kept working together and have put out six full-lengths of original material since 1992. So yeah, they’ve been making music for a very long time now and even had a lengthy stint on Sub Pop Records during its steady rise to the indie powerhouse it is today. They started their own label 20/20/20 several years back and have been putting their music (and re-releasing the Galaxie 500 catalogue) out on it ever since. After taking a few years away from writing and recording, Damon & Naomi are back with their seventh effort as a duo, titled “False Beats and True Hearts”.
As with a number of their previous efforts, Damon & Naomi are once again joined by Ghost guitarist Michio Kunihara, who continues to bring a fascinating tweak to the duo’s typically calm and quiet demeanor. Their songs more often float by in dark folk or psychedelic mood pieces than they do straight up rock, so when an electric guitar does buzz its way into the mix it stands out that much more. The album starts with a brief guitar solo from Kunihara before the main melody and vocals come in with a more standard acoustic guitar and drums in support. The electric guitar is by no means gone though, and it flitters in and out of the mix at various times, always a distraction but a relatively welcome one. It’s not the sort of thing that Damon & Naomi would have done several years ago, but their slow evolution towards a broader spectrum of sounds has only enhanced their songs and contributed towards keeping things fresh while still maintaining a strong sense of identity. There are even some that assert the duo has largely stalled out and aren’t doing enough to keep fans interested in their music. The thing is, there are so few groups that share the same genre DNA as Damon & Naomi, so in effect they don’t need to completely revolutionize their sound every couple records in order to continue engaging old as well as new supporters. Just the simple move from the guitar buzz of “Walking Backwards” into the piano-dominant Naomi-fronted “How Do I Say Goodbye” is proof enough that they’re more than willing to mix things up just a touch while mining similar emotional territory. The use of other instruments such as saxophones, trumpets, xylophones and a variety of other bits outside of a normal guitar, drums and piano is also something Damon & Naomi have been lightly working with their last couple records, and again they’re used in an economical fashion to avoid too much exposition or overstuffed arrangements.
Damon & Naomi’s other big assets outside of how their songs are instrumentally composed are their vocals and lyrics. Neither Damon nor Naomi have voices that emphasize strength and forcefulness, but perhaps they’ve been holding back the entire time to match their rather subdued melodies. No matter if one or both of them are singing on a track, their meekness and just above whisper quiet voices actually add emotion and heartbreak to these primarily sad songs. There’s a great warmth added to “Ophelia” courtesy of Damon’s vocals, which are additionally mixed in at an equal level with the lush acoustic guitars to help it work that much better. Naomi’s best and most confident singing to date comes courtesy of “Nettles and Ivy”, a gorgeous song about the earliest of morning hours where the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon and everything is still glimmering fresh with dew. On the opposite side of the spectrum, “And You Are There” retains the nature imagery but applies it towards the sadness of a sunset, Naomi’s voice bringing forth the heartache of the slow burnout that is much more about ending than it is beginning. The nature imagery is one of the main topics the duo explores on “False Beats and True Hearts”, while life and love also get their fair share of musings as well, at times under the guise of well-crafted metaphors. With everything put together, much of the record sounds remarkably like something Beach House might put out, albeit with more instrumental flourishes and less outright organ.
If there’s a complaint to be had about “False Beats and True Hearts” it’s with Damon & Naomi’s commitment to mood and atmosphere over anything that resembles pop music. If you’re looking for something catchy with a solid hook to it, look elsewhere because there’s little to none of that on this album. They’ve done some of that on previous records, but obviously felt like it wasn’t a priority anymore. That will make it harder for those just discovering them to enjoy the record, and by that same token you might have issues with how immensely quiet the whole thing is. Still, if you’re in a darker mood, or even a more ponderous mood, this is a good record to soundtrack that. It’s not the best thing Damon & Naomi have done either, but it’s a gentle reminder that they still know how to make compelling records despite rolling up on what will soon be their 20th anniversary of making music as a duo in the post-Galaxie 500 era. It’s a shame they don’t get nearly enough recognition for it.
Catch Damon & Naomi on tour with Amor de Dias:
Wednesday, May 25 – Toronto, ONT, Horseshoe
Thurday, May 26 – Pontiac, MI , Pike Room
Friday, May 27 – Chicago, IL, Lincoln Hall
Saturday, May 28 – Minneapolis, MN, Triple Rock
Tuesday, May 31 – Seattle, WA, Tractor Tavern
Wednesday, June 1 – Portland, OR, Bunk Bar
Friday, June 3 – San Francisco, CA, Bottom of the Hill
Saturday, June 4 – Los Angeles, CA, The Satellite
Sunday, June 5 – San Diego, CA, Soda Bar
If you were in any doubt that summer has officially arrived, throw on your best open-toed dancing shoes and pick yourself up a copy of Friendly Fires’ “Pala”. That quote right there has been approved for use in any press blurbs about the band you might read. Seriously though, straight off the tropical bird on the album cover and a track titled “Hawaiian Air” you can get a fantastic idea of what the record is going to sound like without even hearing a single note of it. All the better if you’re familiar with Friendly Fires’ 2008 self-titled debut album, which was so rich in dancefloor goodness that it took the band on multiple world tours and required a deluxe edition re-release to help out the new fans and keep the old ones baited with extras to bide the time until a follow-up was ready. Now it is, and “Pala” is in every way an evolotion from where the band was 3 years ago, adding more influences and sounds, not to mention sheer energy to a fire that was already burning pretty strong.
There’s a moment right before the first time through chorus on “Pala”‘s opening track “Live Those Days Tonight” where the beat largely drops out, things go relatively quiet, and somebody whispers, “Don’t hold back” a handful of times. As if pushed by those words of encouragement, the chorus then explodes to life with both some huge percussion and a hook that is more than addictive enough to stay in your head after only one full listen. That’s not even counting the bridge breakdown, where the chanting of “I’ll live” builds to yet another cathartic release of endorphins in case the first time wasn’t enough for you. Even more incredible is how the band is able to dish out variations on that same strategy across the entire record, keeping your feet moving during the verses and then achieving these blissfully anthemic and catchy choruses to keep you coming back. Producer Paul Epworth deserves at least some of the credit for pushing the band to these more advanced levels in which they owe as much to the dance rock craze of several years ago as they do to modern techno and house music. Epworth’s past resume includes working on key records from Bloc Party and The Rapture, so his fit here is a natural one even if he does tend to make a lot of albums sound super squeaky clean to the point where it’s unnatural. “Pala” suffers that same fate, but the light and airy nature of the record makes it a lot like the audio version of a huge blockbuster film – it’s great to put it on and have some fun without the pressure of thinking too much.
Close analysis of “Pala” is largely what might affect your enjoyment of it as a whole, because while it is an immensely fun dance record, there’s not exactly brilliance behind some of the lyrics and subject matter. The choruses are supposed to be memorable and therefore economical on words, but the verses are where the exposition is supposed to take place. That’s why lines like, “Seeing the mountains through the fog/Watching a film with a talking dog” on “Hawaiian Air” come across as poorly constructed and only existing to achieve a rhyme scheme. The topics as well are overly familiar ones, with almost every song either being about the ups and downs of love (“True Love”, “Hurting”, “Running Away”, “Pull Me Back to Earth”), the best and worst parts of the dancefloor (“Live Those Days Tonight”, “Show Me Lights”) and the sheer beauty of nature (“Hawaiian Air”, “Pala”). LCD Soundsystem, among other acts, proved that you can pretty seamlessly blend dance tracks with words that are genuine, emotionally significant and smart. Of course there are also no indications the band is looking to do a whole lot beyond getting you moving and providing you with something easy to sing along with. In an ideal world, “Pala” would be both, but when choosing between smart and fun, fun is by far the better choice for a band like this.
The different sounds explored on “Pala” is one of the more exciting things about the record and also further proof that they’ve made significant advancements since their last effort. With chillwave all the rage these last couple years, there are brief nods to those sounds, which largely ape lo-fi dance recordings from the 70s and 80s, on tracks like “Blue Cassette” and “Hurting”. The way that actual cassette tape noises such as the high-pitched squeal of rewinding and the click of the “play” button are worked into the context of “Blue Cassette” is particularly well played and impressive. Meanwhile, the strong mixture of synths and piano in conjunction with a vast array of beats on “Running Away” and “Chimes” bring to mind some of the more Balearic elements of today’s club scene. “Show Me Lights” is very 90s R&B in its construction, with frontman Ed Macfarlane’s voice sounding like it was forged in those same fires anyways. You might also think that R. Kelly would be proud of the album’s only ballad, the title track “Pala”, which is smooth as glass matched with the sort of slow clap beat you can make some serious love to. The funky bass and synths of “True Love” feel ripped straight from the Talking Heads, which is a delight. And the Afrobeat bits of “Pull Me Back to Earth” have plenty of charm to go around as well. This sort of diversity is absolutely a sign of growth, and while each track is great individually, together the entire record can appear to be a little scatterbrained and unfocused. So long as you keep your eye on the prize of just generally enjoying your listening experience though, it’s a problem that ultimately feels minimal.
“Pala” is a party record through and through, one ideal for the warm months where you can loosen up and have some fun outside. It is, by all accounts, tropical and exotic too, an auditory vacation where you’re not bogged down with the stress of work and everyday life and can just enjoy relaxing by a beautiful body of water. You should treat it as such too, because the more you study it the more its flaws become apparent. Turn your brain off and put your dancing shoes on. It might not be as amazing as Cut Copy’s latest “Zonoscope”, but the two records have a lot in common with one another. There are also so many “big” songs on “Pala” that it’s practically begging to be embraced by hundreds of millions of people. Friendly Fires have been on the steady rise since 2007, and this is in many ways their opus that should launch them into the big time. The songs are crazy addictive and easy enough for even the most hostile crowd to embrace. Give them a few months to build up some more steam and they will take over the world. Hang onto your spotlights ladies and gentlemen, because Friendly Fires are about to steal them. There’s another quote for the next press release.
