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The National – “High Violet” (4AD) (rating 8 out of 10)
One of the signs of a great band is that their weaknesses, while just as present as in their less satisfying contemporaries, still kind of work for them. It’s true that most song lyrics lie rather flat on the page, but if I told you that one of the things I want to praise about “High Violet” was the lyrics and then quoted “It’s a terrible love and I’m walkin’ with spiders” or “I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees” or “I had a hole in the middle where the lightning went through,” would you believe me? And yet, while I can’t really argue that those examples don’t read as a little silly, in practice they’re not just acceptable; they’re evocative, even moving.
It’s not just Matt Berninger’s rumpled baritone that sells those lines. While Berninger’s command of his instrument continues to deepen and occasionally surprise, the whole band displays that kind of quiet mastery. While Aaron and Bryce Dessner’s guitars are less aggressive than ever on “High Violet,” they’re still all over the record, from the malfunctioning-radio surges of the beginning of “Terrible Love” on down. Whether it’s the plangent leads of “Anyone’s Ghost” or the steady, distorted strum of “Lemonworld,” the National continue to be the world’s least likely great guitar band. Meanwhile, the rhythm section of Scott and Bryan Devendorf continue to lend these quiet, almost stately songs a deceptively deep sense of propulsion, which is part of the reason why such a relentlessly mid-tempo set of songs can spring to life in such varied and lively ways.
And of course, there are the songs. For years now the National have been singing about the city and wine and girls and maybe growing up a little, and if “Boxer” saw them embracing the bittersweet sting of maturity and nostalgia, “High Violet” follows hard on its heels with a set of songs about New York and Ohio, about the terrible, undertow pull of a (gasp) settled, normal life, about being a little in love with melancholy but also being self-aware enough to realize that love is a little ridiculous and self-destructive. Becoming an adult is a slow processes that involves thinking that you’re not a certain kind of person, and then waking up one day and realizing that yeah, you are; recently, National songs have been about coming to terms with that as much as anything else. “High Violet” summons up perfectly the sneaking suspicion you start getting in your 20s that possibilities are closing off, that your life might not turn out the way you wanted it to, and that there’s probably no one else to blame but yourself. – Ian Mathers
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The Dead Weather – “Sea of Cowards” (Warner Bros.) (rating 7 out of 10)
Since breaking free from his own self-imposed studio limitations in the White Stripes by embracing more colorful, overdubbed, fleshed-out arrangements with the Raconteurs, Jack White uses his newest band as a means to split the difference, using a full band format but employing it with jam session pace and color. With the Dead Weather, White and company (former Queens of the Stone Age guitarist Dean Fertita, Jack Lawrence, also of the Raconteurs, on bass, and Alison Mosshart of the Kills on vocals), try too hard to not try too hard.
“Horehound,” the band’s debut, was a fairly thrilling slice of demonic blues – not too surprising, definitely not revolutionary, but its dark, sweat-soaked tunes got the dirty job done. The big question at hand was whether or not Mosshart could command the microphone with as much gusto and personality as her bandmate and, at the same time, not leave the fans feeling a lack of Jack. One thing’s for sure, though: for the Dead Weather Round Two, it’s time to put up or shut up and make a record of enough quality to warrant a supergroup.
Good news: as the album progresses, the band keeps the pummeling drive of their past work but ups the ante by throwing in some new sonic reference points. “Gasoline” brings in some funk and reggae influence as Fertita’s sweaty organ sizzles over thick bass and loose-snared drums. “Die By the Drop” is Krautrock smeared in sludge, its progression formed primarily from a single pounded piano/bass note. Mosshart, sounding more confident than ever, occasionally reaching a Karen O level of sensual swagger, is the more consistently effective vocal presence. At this point, it sounds like she’s ready to step out in the front of the mic by herself for a whole album. White sounds more creative and confident behind the kit, too. Together, they finally sound like a “band.” – Ryan Reed
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Keane – “Night Train” (Cherrytree/Interscope) (rating 6 out of 10)
“Night Train” is only eight tracks and that’s all it needs to be. Keane should be commended for kicking the CD-era habit of packing an album with 70-80 minutes of music. The construction of “Night Train”, the group’s fourth release since “Hopes and Fears” (2004), heralds back to a bygone era when even the biggest pop artists released albums that challenged the standard five-to-a-side LP format. Look at the “Album of the Year” Grammys for 1983 (Michael Jackson: “Thriller”) and 1984 (Lionel Richie: “Can’t Slow Down”). They featured nine and eight songs, respectively. David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” (1983)? Madonna’s 1983 debut? Eight songs.
On “Night Train,” Keane employs what in the 21st century might seem like a novel methodology: record tracks, select the best cuts, keep the album to a manageable 35-minutes, and let the listener absorb (and repeat) in one sitting. Whatever the conceit for releasing only eight songs – perhaps they didn’t have enough material or were just eager to release these particular eight tracks – Keane serves up a concise, competent follow-up to “Perfect Symmetry” (2008).
Entitled with a nod to Keane’s preferred mode of transportation during their 2008-2009 world tour, “Night Train” further elucidates why Tom Chaplin, Richard Hughes, Tim Rice-Oxley are some of pop music’s most reliable tunesmiths. Of course, with the number of fans Keane has accumulated after tallying sales of 10 million albums, comes the inevitable derision from critics. “Night Train” will fuel constituents of both camps. The sound is big, the melodies are chock full of hooks, and, save for “Your Love,” the voice of Tom Chaplin wails above the whole production. “Night Train” introduces its passengers to memorable vistas, even when the scenery could be improved. – Christian John Wikane
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Gayngs – “Relayted” (Jagjaguwar) (rating 7 out of 10)
Gayngs have got emotional baggage; they want you to feel what they’re feeling and they’ll convey it to you in whatever way works for you. It would be easy to classify “Relayted” as part of the Glo Fi movement, but it owes more to the new age of Enigma and the woozy jazz of early Portishead. While many atmospheric bands of late seem to shy away from any remotely commercial sounds, Gayngs have produced a record that let its melodic accessibility complement its denser qualities. An ’80s gothic melancholy showers over the first half of the album, recalling the Cure and even Tears For Fears, especially on the heartwrenching cover of 10cc’s “Cry.” It’s this unashamedly commercial packaging of sadness and loss being tempered in the aforementioned thoughtful soundscapes, that give Gayngs nothing short of a complete emotional bulls eye when they are on form.
“The Gaudy Side of Town,” “No Sweat” and “The Beatdown” all recall the psychedelic, delirious glory of the downtempo moments on Primal Scream’s “Screamadelica.” Windswept beats take a stroll in a breeze of lush keyboards and lazy trumpets. Vocally, Justin Vernon’s tones range from a bluesy tenor to blissed out falsetto, and walls of his voice are scattered frequently around. “False Bottom” takes a more experimental route, brass and distorted vocals accumulating in the mix like a tribal version of Radiohead’s “The National Anthem,” which provides a welcome break from the moody serenades.
It would be great if the whole album was as good as its first half hour. As each track goes by, you’re not entirely sure who you’re hearing, until you relent and admit that all you’re hearing is the multi-faceted sound of Gayngs, as gothic as they are electronic. Later on in the album, though, it seems that they aren’t entirely sure of who they are themselves, which is disappointing, as the Gayngs of the first six tracks is an incredible musical experience. – Joe Copplestone
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As I Lay Dying – “The Powerless Rise” (Metal Blade) (rating 6 out of 10)
Of all the dozens and dozens of American metalcore bands who bluntly co-opted At the Gates’ groundbreaking blend of melody and aggression and drove it into our heads instead of trying to come up with something remotely original, As I Lay Dying is one of the tired genre’s most inexplicable success stories. At their worst, the San Diego band can be hopelessly generic, the songwriting often lacking the melodic punch of peers All That Remains and Killswitch Engage, the vocal work of frontman Tim Lambesis strong but failing to differentiate from all the other death growlers in metal, their live show devoid of the energy and charisma that a band like Unearth exudes in spades. Yet by sheer will they’ve chipped and chipped their way into the heads of younger metal fans especially, building an extremely loyal fanbase from the ground up by literally playing anywhere and everywhere over the course of ten years to the point now that they can keep churning out the same old tired “Slaughter of the Soul” rip-offs and be assured of a top ten debut on the album chart. For all their faults, that tenacity alone is worthy of some respect.
For their fifth album, the band has decided to go back to the formula that gained them such notoriety in the first place. Before all the skeptics start rolling their eyes and think, “here we go again,” the end result is far more interesting than expected. Sure, the quintet has gone back to the cookie-cutter sound of twin leads, hardcore breakdowns, and alternating clean and harsh vocals, but by essentially admitting that they have no innovative ideas whatsoever and are content to work within that metalcore template, they actually sound like a band liberated on “The Powerless Rise.”
“The Powerless Rise” is certainly not without its faults. “Without Conclusion” swipes the distinct pick scrape that Gojira has made famous and overdoes it to an annoying degree, its “look at what we can do” sentiment off-putting. Elsewhere, the songwriting can get lazy, “Condemned” far too close to Hatebreed for comfort, the maudlin slow-burner “The Blinding of False Light” falling flat, and Lambesis never does himself any favors with yet another performance high on brutality but lacking personality. More often than not, though, this album does work very well, a sign that these guys are indeed starting to get better with time. “I see that conformity is betrayal,” Lambesis bellows at one point. I’d beg to differ: falling back in line might be the smartest thing As I Lay Dying has ever done. – Adrien Begrand
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