Klap 4 Music
Field Music – Field Music (Measure)
Author: Rudy Klapper
Field Music – Field Music (Measure)
Memphis Industries 2010
Rating: 7/10
Being British means a few things. You drink tea on a disturbingly regular basis. You wear sweaters at all times of year. You are fanatical about some odd sport called “football.” You may or may not require some heavy dental work. And if you play guitar and enjoy psychedelic rock, you are more likely than not a huge fan of Ray Davies, not to mention any number of scarf-wearing, mustachioed musicians. I cannot say for certain whether any of these things are true, but listening to Field Music’s third album, Field Music (Measure), I find it hard not to. The brothers David and Peter Brewis craft impeccably refined, undeniably British music, cribbing from any number of Anglo influences with all the pride of full-blooded Englishmen. It’s only been three years, but evidently the duo’s short-lived hiatus has resulted in a mammoth twenty-track record, one as ambitious in its scope as it is narrowed in its focus. That focus being, of course, to create the next XTC via ‘70s prog-rock album.
A song like the supremely bouncy “Effortlessly” or the jagged rock of ”All You’d Ever Need To Say” might fool listeners into thinking that Field Music have merely refined their power-pop aesthetic from 2007’s Tones of Town, but cherry picking a few tunes here and there from what is undoubtedly an intimidating album would be doing the band a disservice. Despite its eminently poppy nature and the accessible way the brothers Brewis continually harmonize, Measure is the kind of album that requires multiple listens to fully appreciate, a record that mixes David and Peter’s disparate natures into something that might be called prog-pop. It’s there in the dangerous opening lick of “In The Mirror,” where a threatening guitar riff raises the tension only to be deflated by the intensely jovial, intensely British pastoral jaunt of “Them That Do Nothing.” It’s an odd juxtaposition and one that immediately sets the tone for the rest of the album, a theme that can be succinctly summed up with one cliché: expect the unexpected.
Sure, there’s your typical XTC homage in the jittery “Each Time Is A New Time,” your odd hint of David Bowie in the title track, and the brothers do a damn fine John and Paul impression on their flawless harmonies, but Measure slowly and surely develops into its own beast as the first disc melts into the second. The little things you may have passed over in your first cursory listen to things start to pop out. The sharp angles and meticulously designed jabs and fuzzy riffs of the brother’s preferred mode of expression, the guitar, begin to take on a life of their own. A song like “Clear Water” defies easy categorization, as it runs the gamut from straightforward pop to murky experimentalism with little to no self-consciousness, while a tune like “Let’s Write A Book” knows how to use the guitar to propel a song forward and not overwhelm it, instead coloring in the edges with a variety of hand claps, studio effects, and space-age synths.
But for all their musical exploration, the backbone of Measure is that standard rock triptych, the guitar, bass, and drums, with an emphasis on GUITAR. It defines every song here, driving the rhythm, framing the brothers’ effortless harmonies, and creating riffs and passages often so deceptively mind-boggling that it’s hard to appreciate them the first time through. It’s what makes re-listening to Measure so pleasant, when one can see the band’s craftsmanship in placing a gentle wisp of a tune like “Precious Plans” before the instrumental metamorphosis of “See You Later” or the way a song like “The Rest Is Noise,” built on a number of layers, eventually disintegrates into the smoldering ballad “Curves of the Needle,” everything resting on a foundation of superb guitar work.
It’s also, unfortunately, what makes the album’s running time such a tough thing to overcome, and while the band’s finely constructed songs always stand out on their own, over the course of a twenty-song record things tend to muddle together into a haze of guitar and quintessentially British harmonies. As a double album, Measure lacks any concept or coherent instrumental theme (save maybe for the eternal importance of the guitar) to give it meaning, and thus makes what could have been two outstanding ten-song collections a rather staggering amount of material that too often fails to hold the listener’s long-term attention. It’s a shame, and really the only notable failing of Measure, but it’s a big one. But for a double-album as immense as this is and with little no filler that one might expect from such a grand project, it’s a record that rewards its listener, especially if said listener is not averse to taking breaks and returning with a fresh head. Perhaps with some tea and crumpets.
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read comments (0)Rogue Wave – Permalight
Author: Rudy Klapper
Rogue Wave – Permalight
Brushfire Records 2010
Rating: 8/10
“Will you be the bed for me when they set the world on fire / just to see it burn?” frontman Zach Schwartz asks on “Solitary Gun,” the opening song off Rogue Wave’s deliciously bouncy new record Permalight. For a band that has been through some of the hells Rogue Wave have suffered over the past few years, including the death of a former bandmate and one member’s struggle with kidney failure, “Solitary Gun” is an unexpected shot in the arm, a booster of unbridled joy and money hooks that belie the song’s apocalyptic images. Indeed, “Solitary Gun” is a most unlikely anthem, one that sets the tone for the rest of Permalight as a bright, buoyant beacon of hope.
Viewed through the context of the band’s three-year hiatus and the tragedies the members’ themselves have suffered, one would be forgiven for thinking that Permalight would be a dirge of a record, one mired in weepy indie pop and bent on exorcising the ghosts of its past. But while it does exorcise those ghosts, it does it in the most defiant way possible, through bubbling synths and lyrics about love machines like on the obscenely catchy “Good Morning (The Future),” or via quietly surging lullabies like the beautifully glacial “Sleepwalker.” Gone are the dreamy guitar-pop of their past and the constant Shins references – Rogue Wave have embraced electro to buff up their strikingly powerful guitar hooks, and rather than lose themselves in a fad they assimilate it flawlessly, as one listen to single “Good Morning (The Future)” quickly proves.
That’s not to say that the folksy heart of Schwartz’s songwriting has been subverted by mindless hooks; rather, the electronic additions to songs like the gently swelling “Fear Itself” and the jittery hooks of “Stars and Stripes” inject a whole new kind of life into the proceedings. But at the heart of it all is Schwartz’s relentlessly heartening songwriting, which floats from effortless pop-rock to whispery ballads with the same ease and, more importantly, the same strength, both lyrically and musically. It’s the way the gutsy bass line and ragged guitar slowly build to a hammering chorus on “Right With You,” the way “I’ll Never Leave You” somehow turns one of the more clichéd sentiments in rock ‘n roll into a heartrending promise with just a shaker, handclaps, and some beautiful harmonies, the way that every song here just seems overwhelmed with joy. It’s hard to describe the perfect hook with words, but suffice it to say that nearly every song here has that sublime ability to punch one right in the aural stomach, the place directly attached to your foot-tapping and singing-in-the-shower nerves.
This isn’t a perfect record, as made evident by the annoyingly repetitive title track or the way things sort of tail off by the last two songs, but it’s leagues ahead of your average indie pop album, and it’s certainly Rogue Wave’s best effort yet. Their ability to turn what would have wrecked many bands into an unfettered success is Permalight’s biggest triumph, and the listening experience is just as enticing a treat for the listener. More than anything else, though, Permalight stands out as a life-affirming testament to the human spirit, a collection of songs that come off as just so incredibly happy, so goddamn upbeat, that it’s impossible not to fall in love with it, with everything.
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read comments (0)Shout Out Louds – Work
Author: Rudy Klapper
Shout Out Louds – Work
Merge Records 2010
Rating: 6/10
Whether it’s their effervescent boy-girl harmonies, lead singer Adam Olenius’ Robert Smith via Sweden accent, or merely their completely innocent, inoffensive image, Stockholm five-piece Shout Out Louds have never really been able to differentiate themselves from the wave of indie-pop bands seemingly pouring out of the Great White North since ABBA. Even after their second album, 2007’s wonderfully multicolored Our Ill Wills, the band was continually relegated to One Tree Hill-background status, while arguably less-talented bands like Peter Bjorn & John hit the mainstream with some nifty whistling. Work, then, seems like a middle finger to the rest of the industry that has largely ignored them, its laughably serious cover and simplistic title a brazen sign to the world that they’re here to work, by God! It’s stripped down and remarkably focused compared to their previous two efforts, and producer Phil Ek (Fleet Foxes, the Shins) brings out the indie big guns. It’s unfortunate, however, that it’s this single-minded directive that turns Work into a bit of a regression of their sound.
Our Ill Wills was a wildly sprawling affair, one that dabbled in South American bossa nova as often as it cribbed from ‘80s new wave, but it was the band’s undeniable heart and Olenius’ often emotionally bare performances that made it one of the finest examples of Northern indie pop. Here, nostalgic opener “1999” sets things up perfectly for a dynamite sequel, with its verses mourning “how can I forget the nights we killed / every summer night / you know the sun never sets around here / that is what we wake for up here” while Bebban Stenborg’s lovely soprano colors in the borders and a yearning guitar line completes the sepia-toned picture. But follow-up “Fall Hard” is an immediate letdown, rote Cure-ish synth-rock with an admittedly money chorus that still lacks that certain emotional punch, that red-blooded fire that makes “1999” hit so hard and what made their last record so affecting. It’s a problem that continues in first single “Walls,” where the muted climax makes the slow buildup that preceded it completely lifeless. Frankly disturbing, actually, is that more than a few of the songs here take the titular noun to heart a bit too much, mid tempo slush like “Four by Four” or the aimless atmospherics of “Candle Burned Out” missing that indefinable passion; missing any sort of authentic feeling, really.
It’s these half-hearted attempts that make the successes on Work so striking when they do hit the mark. Songs like “Play The Game” and the hypnotic “Moon” are veritable Shout Out Louds classics, taking the slow burn idiom that they mastered on Our Ill Wills and elevating them, whether it be with ethereal guitar melodies, the haunting addition of strings, or Olenius’ on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown intimacy. Just as effective is the rave-up of “Show Me Something New,” which harkens back to their high-octane debut, or the riveting, anthemic “Throwing Stones,” where the band actually sounds happy to be living the dream and not so damn heartbroken. It’s these kinds of songs that make it seem near criminal that Shout Out Louds were never able to achieve the sort of exposure of a PB & J or even the Hives, and matches up the best aspects of the group’s sound: namely, swooning, sugary melodies via synths and guitar and Olenius’ distinctive, confidential vocal style.
And then the album closes out with a shimmering mess like “Too Late, Too Slow,” a jumble of fuzz and whispery vocals that never really rises above its self-created muddle, and you wonder what happened to the balls-out band of the past. Work is not a bad album by any measure, and it’s a thoroughly enjoyable experience for any fans of the genre. But as the third album for a band that seemed to be destined to make the jump from merely great to one of the landmark acts, it’s a definite step back, one that seems content to work within the boundaries of its influences and journey out only for the occasional track. In other words, it too often sounds like just work for the sake of Work.
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