More for Slant: I review the latest Ducktails full-length, his first proper LP since 09′s Landscapes. Remember “LandRunner” from Landscapes? Remember how it was the best? This new record has no “LandRunner.” Click, please: Ducktails III: Arcade Dynamics.
RS
Here’s the first in what is hopefully a long stretch of work with a terrific online magazine, Slant. My first assignment? The latest from Madlib, maybe the finest producer working in hip-hop today. Click, please: Low Budget High Fi Music.
RS
What does it mean to be in the right place at the right time? In 2010, during the recession, during post-grads savaging each other for evaporating jobs and the scraps of relationships that give meaning to the empty accumulating hours, it means being the National. And what’s more, this is a band that’s been here before.
Three years ago, Matt Berninger, frontman of the Brooklyn-based indie rock outfit, sang of being “half-awake in a fake empire,” and of course it was true. Boxer, the masterpiece of an album from which that lyric comes, startled listeners awake with its careful attention to American ennui at the decade’s close. Admittedly, there is a certain specificity with regards to that record’s audience, evidenced by references to Citibank and sport coats, but among the indie set, the National resounded like a gunshot in a closed room. Now High Violet, another collection of urgent, melancholy songs, ushers in this next decade.
“It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders,” the first words heard on High Violet, delivered in the by-now-familiar baritone hiding in Berninger’s slim frame. For newcomers, “Terrible Love” is an ideal introduction to the National. Musically, the song’s repetitive guitar squiggles, backlit by Bryan Devendorf’s propulsive drumming, slow-burn through familiar but nevertheless fresh territory arriving at a climax worthy of post-rock acts like Explosions in the Sky or Mogwai. Berninger’s lyrics, ever relying on the repetition of slightly askew phrases, achieve an emotional understanding that neatly avoids sense. The progression from “walking with spiders” to “it takes an ocean not to break” to talk of a “rabbit hole” makes little literal sense, but strange juxtapositions and bizarre metaphors are Berninger’s bread-and-butter. They work in a mysterious way that justifies the acclaim heaped upon the band.
If it weren’t for the perfect swirls of haunted elegance the band locks into, maybe Berninger’s words wouldn’t stand out so much. There lies another juxtaposition: the tightness of the band’s compositions versus the strange, strange sentences sung over top them. The mystery only deepens when, say, Berninger sings of being “carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees” over meticulously arranged piano and drums on “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” High Violet’s first single. But for every ambiguous image there is a piercing admission like “I don’t have the drugs to sort it out,” a particularly devastating line from standout track “Afraid of Everyone.” Collision could be the word for the National’s aesthetic.
Despite the excellence of most of these songs, High Violet does not represent a huge leap forward for the band. Laid side-by-side along and given cursory listens, it would not be immediately clear which record came first, Boxer or High Violet. The clues to the chronology lie in the lyrics. Boxer, as discussed, is a product of the Bush administration – it is no coincidence that the Obama campaign played “Fake Empire” at events till the grooves were worn from the record. How then does High Violet speak to 2010?
“I still owe money/to the money/to the money I owe,” Berninger sings on “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” a strong indicator of the record’s timeliness. He follows this blackly humorous series with, “the floors are falling out from/everybody I know,” seamlessly transitioning into more serious territory. The freefall he alludes to, the endless and absurd accumulation of debts to be paid – this is commonplace now. The unease induced by this permeates the record’s sound – High Violet could make the listener forget the sun can shine.
As he demonstrated on Boxer, Berninger knows when to stray from the explicit airing of concerns. He is too interesting a lyricist to stay obvious. Thus the record’s best lyric, from perhaps the record’s best song, is a fragment: “All the very best of us/string ourselves up for the.” He intones this incomplete thought 8 times over the course of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” the record’s final track. What to fill in the emptiness with? Right now, unfortunately, there are too many immediate answers. But the National are intelligent enough to know to end on a held-breath, letting High Violet become timeless.
RS
Fall Be Kind dropped digitally today, and if that doesn’t mean much to you then clearly your ears need tutoring.
Animal Collective, people – they’re better than your favorite band (an exaggeration to be sure, but nevertheless…)
I have one listen of their new EP under my belt, and I’d like to share my thoughts with all you excellent people.
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“Graze” – On our opening track, we have Avey Tare singing from outer space, soon to be joined by Panda Bear, also coming from a distant cosmos. Then the percussion arrives and we’re off and vibing to some cranked-up flute and all kinds of dancing (damn you Pitchfork for making me think of hobbits). It’s a solid opener, but not indicative of their best work.
“What Would I Want? Sky” – Yes, here’s the one; with each of Animal Collective’s releases, there’s one track that rushes ahead of the others to merrily greet your ears, and this buoyant, infectious song is the most current example. This is all kinds of aural sex, and never did I think I would say that about something involving the Grateful Dead, but lately Animal Collective has been making music on a plane where no wrong can be done so silly me for being surprised. Keep it on repeat.
“Bleed” – I’ve always thought I was in the minority for loving “I’m Not” from Person Pitch so dearly. If you too are apart of that minority, may I suggest this petite slice of pulsating softness.
“On a Highway” – Lyrically, the level of detail here recalls “Kids on Holiday,” a favorite of mine. This is a grower.
“I Think I Can” – Panda Bear helms the final track, but this is a meaner variety of everyone’s favorite cat-foot black-and-white than I’m used to. This one’s a bit more forceful, a tad more martial sounding in a way that instantly sets it apart from the dreamy haze of Person Pitch. The sentiment of the title might fit in well with the lyrical themes of Person Pitch, but sonically it couldn’t be more different. There’s a severity here that evokes “Daily Routine”, but this is more deliberate, maybe?
But wait! – the last two minutes achieve the skin-cancer-inducing levels of sunniness I’ve come to expect from Noah Lennox (and of course it’s the moment when he sings that titular phrase).
In short, a great closing track.
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Fall Be Kind is available now, digitally. If you’re waiting on the wax, give it another couple weeks.
RS
