Music / Review
Album: Citrus
Artist: Asobi Seksu
Year: 2006
More so than movies or books, music can sometimes be seasonal. That's not to suggest that a given album can't be enjoyed off-season, but rather that there's a certain added pleasure to listening to it when the time is right. As suggested by the pumpkin-orange artwork that adorns the cover of shoegaze alt-rockers Asobi Seksu's sophomore full-length, 2006's Citrus, this is an album for the fall. Both the lyrical content of the set (that which can be made out, and is in English), as well as the dense and layered arrangements, exude a palpable haziness and melancholia. Yet, there's a warmth too — found in the bouncy, chiming textures of these monolithic rockers — which keeps things from seeming too cold and distant. Citrus is an album that's perfect for the autumnal months, when hot summer days awkwardly (and often abruptly) transition into frigid winter nights.
Blustery hurricanes of low-end and distortion dominate the atmosphere, but not without a fight from lead singer Yuki Chikudate's quivering and ethereal voice, which occasionally breaks through the din, only to be swallowed whole by a colossal wall of sound once more. Take lead single "New Years," for example, which finds Yuki's fragile whisper riding atop a mountain of titanic distortion and trebling bass, eventually dispelling the noise long enough to croon the track's gorgeous bridge, only to be drown out moments later by an even greater sonic assault; it's an auditory struggle akin to the push-and-pull of the seasonal weather. But that's as hectic as it gets, which is important to point out, lest I undersell the tunefulness of this album. Cuts like "Lions And Tigers," which skimps on none of the band's requisite amounts of low-end, but tempers the intensity with Yuki's lullaby-sung verses and playful jingling during the subdued (at least by this band's standards) chorus. Of course, even this song eventually builds to a symphonic, eardrum-shattering climax, but that's more a testament to the restless nature of these sprawling compositions.
Citrus approaches within-its-genre perfection, but, unfortunately, it does stumble a bit. To make matters worse, its two missteps sit right next to each other chronologically, at the dead center of the album. First up, there’s "Pink Cloud Tracing Paper," which lacks the loud-quiet-loud discipline of the other cuts found here, but could be forgiven if not for the decision to hand the mic off to the band's other half, guitarist James Hanna (whose weak, indistinct vocal doesn't do the song any favors); followed by the nearly eight-minute muddle of "Red Sea," which lacks form and goes on far, far too long. Both are relatively minor sins, but they nonetheless soften the impact of the work as a whole.
Thankfully, the two weakest cuts are followed by the strongest; penultimate single "Goodbye" opens with a rousing drum roll only slightly less gratifying than the killer riffs that accompany the verse. Factor in the track's honey-sweet chorus, and what you end up with exemplifies the kind of crystalline art-pop so many attempt and so few execute with such precision. At under four minutes, the track could have easily felt cropped next to the various, more ambitious compositions it keeps company with, but the band is so efficient when it comes to pacing and structure that they're able to imbue the song with enough variance to make it more than just a catchy bit of junk food. Sentiments which apply to the entirety of Citrus, which registers as one of the catchiest pop albums of 2006, while sacrificing none of the layered production values that are the stock-in-trade of the shoegaze formula.
Grade: 3/4
Music / Review
Album: Merriweather Post Pavilion
Artist: Animal Collective
Year: 2009
Big words, I know. But any modern rock critic worth his salt will cop to being in awe of this band, even if not everything they've done thrills them. Pretty much everything does it for me though, excepting some very early, particularly indulgent live recordings, and a few tracks off odd LPs over the years. Also, both critics and hardcore fans alike (and there are many) have probably heard most of the cuts on Merriweather (all but the bouncy pop of "Blueish," which debuts on this album) either performed live at concerts, or at concerts on Youtube. That, coupled with interviews with the band stating that this is their "best album yet," and a particularly enthusiastic review from one of the music world's most reputable publications (Uncut), created an almost unbearable strain of hype preceding its release, that which almost any album would buckle under, and couldn't possibly live up to. It's to the great credit of this extraordinary band that they come damn close.
The first sign of greatness reveals itself in the impeccable construction of Merriweather: The album kicks off with "In The Flowers," the most atmospheric track of the set and (next to later cut "No More Runnin'") the most subdued. At least until it suddenly erupts with buzzing synth stabs, before quieting down again for the lead-out, establishing a loud-quiet-loud aesthetic which will remain prevalent throughout. 'Flowers' finds one of the band's two principal vocalists, Avey Tare (real name Dave Portner), waxing euphorically in the name of love about "leaving [his] body for a night." It's a peculiar ballad, for sure, but one that displays a maturity (welcome or not) which contrasts Tare's gorgeously animalistic love song "Purple Bottle," off 2005's Feels.
This sense of gravity and responsibility, a theme that subtly weaves itself into every song on the album, seems appropriate, as a lot has changed since 2005. For instance, one member, Panda Bear (real name Noah Lennox), has become a father, which adds a certain credibility to the powerful lead single (though the band would never call it that) "My Girls." Here, Tare and Panda Bear simply and earnestly proclaim, in unison, "I don't mean / to seem like I care about material things / like a social status / I just want / four walls and adobe slabs / for my girls." The sentiments are felt not only on a human level, but relatable in this time of economic instability, where one can find the most gratifying aspects of life in the love and nurturing of others.
Not all the content here is heavy though; in fact much of it is abstract at best. Lazy, spell-binding Panda Bear cut "Daily Routine" drifts along on skittering break-beats and a vaguely hand-clap-sounding percussive rhythm. Then, halfway through, it slams on the breaks and endlessly repeats its dreamlike refrain, "just one sec more / in my bed," as if to savor that moment in the morning before starting the day. Or maybe coercing someone to stay with him for a while? The ambiguity only empowers the track, and even here we find traces of that nurturing paternal maturity in lyrics like "make sure my kid's got a jacket." Elsewhere, the most catchy track Tare has ever written, "Summertime Clothes," finds the band in a state of freewheeling bliss. "I want to walk around with you," Tare sings, later repeatedly chanting the track's makeshift bridge, "when the sun comes up we'll go out again." The act of being caught up in a moment, or a musical/lyrical stanza, is one of many binding thematic concerns here.
On the album's biggest and best moment, which further demonstrates the superior sense of structure Merriweather has been endowed with, album closer "Brother Sport"-- written by Panda Bear as means to encourage his younger brother Matt (the refrain of the track)-- demonstrates the strengths of the artist's superlative 2007 solo effort, Person Pitch, enhanced by the ingenuity and communal spirit of the band. If no moment in music this year matches the shear ecstatic urgency and rhythmic perfection of "Brother Sport's" midsection, I couldn't reasonably be disappointed. House synths snake around buzzing alarms as a thundering thump lumbers along in the background, giving way to joyful sighs which will be familiar to anyone who's spent time with Pitch.
Aside from being a singles collection (and most every song on here, as a stand-alone track, should thrill at the very least those indie rock fans with range, if not every human being with ears), Merriweather unifies itself in ways no other Animal Collective record has yet been able to (though Feels comes close). Gurgling electronics evoke the fluidity of water, a recurring theme in the band's music, but all the more relevant here. Especially when one considers the album's artwork, a hypnotic, aquamarine-colored illusion replete with interlocking leaves acting as a curtain (or a barrier?) obscuring an astral backdrop. Every aspect of the record, especially its runtime (nearly an hour), seems to purport vast and epic aspirations. And the band comes damn close to pulling it all off.
Save a few cursory criticisms ("Also Frightened" is a bit lacking, and not as tuneful as the rest of the set — it's also too long), and the unshakable sense that in the effort to be sonically cohesive the music has lost a bit of its fervor and humanistic qualities, Merriweather still sits comfortably in the band's overwhelmingly impressive canon, and will most likely tower above the vast majority of '09 releases. Merriweather Post Pavilion might not be quite the classic it's being hyped as (not to these ears at least), but so what? The good news: maybe the band's pinnacle, their defining release, is still yet to come. What could be more exciting than that?
Grade: 3.5/4
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