2009 will perhaps be remembered as the year in which the ‘Indie Rock’ bubble burst. Indie is of course an awfully vague term popularised by its convenience rather than its accuracy, but the sake of this interview we’ll use it. First ‘generation’ bands such as The Strokes have fallen off the critical map with recent efforts; second wave imitators are now imitating other second wave imitators or desperately trying to transcend the genre or simply hop into another one (Hello, Bloc Party and The Horrors). As the 00s come to a close what was once a fresh and exciting genre is looking a little fetid, as musical movements and genres tend to after nearly a decade in the sun.
If 2009 will be remembered as the year nonchalant garage rock handed the baton over to upbeat, sparkly electro or New-Wave pop, then Grizzly Bear’s new effort will be amongst a new wave of, predominantly American, rock music that looks set to inspire the genre’s eventual revival.
Veckatimest is an album that begs to be listened to whole, and not because the album has been constructed with segues that link the songs together, but because it largely shares the shame lyrical themes, moods and is painstakingly crafted to be listened to as a single movement. The album is relentlessly written in the minor key, it is mid-tempo and it’s all rather stately chamber-pop. Acoustic guitars intertwine with their electric cousins who are distorted just enough to shimmer on top of the warm fuzz of the bass guitar creating a hazy, autumnal swirl and that’s pretty much it. There’s two very notable exceptions, lead single Two Weeks is suitably singlish and moreish for radio-play without compromising the rest of the album’s introspective, pastoral feel. Its plodding, ornate staccato piano riff, pop vocal harmonies, deep, crashing bass and Ed Droste’s mournful croon set each other off perfectly and deliver one of the most morish slices of bittersweet baroque pop since The Beach Boys.
On the other end of the scale is album closer, Foreground, which like Two Weeks is piano led, but is far more reserved and resigned. It’s circular piano melody is perfectly delicate and stripped down, Droste’s deep croon is replaced with Rossen’s fragile falsetto, the perfect comedown for an album closer on such a complete piece.
Despite this requirement to be devoured whole and its stylistic uniformity, Veckatimest is not dull, tiring or even a particularly difficult album. There are striking stand-outs that work as self contained nuggets of gold in the album’s grand symphonic swirl. As well as the aforementioned piano led tracks, While You Wait For The Others, Cheerleader and Ready, Able all provide the necessary hooks to keep you satisfied on those sometime difficult initial listens. Whilst the rest of the album stays in the same gear and key, it’s by no means samey.
Much has been written about the album’s pastoral, elemental feel. Such comments are easily read as lazy journalistic shoehorning, a writer short on time and opinions merely googling the album’s title and discovering its charmingly idiosyncratic, and painfully unpronounceable, title is also the name of an island off the Massachusetts’ coast and there you go, elementally inspired, pastoral album. But there is actually something in this assertion beyond lazy journalism. The album’s chamber-pop/psychedelic folk combination is, like The Beach Boys, very evocative of a specific time and place. I’ve never been to America, let alone Massachusetts, but as – to rope in The Beach Boys again – Pet Sounds is, for me, the sound of the dog days of a Californian Summer were relationships have begun to fade like the weather after an initial, short and joyful burst; Veckatimest inspires images of the autumnal countryside, isolation and well, what I imagine Massachusetts, or at least that corner of the world to be like. The warm, fuzzy bass, the hazy, shimmering guitar tone and floaty, transient vocals are all evocative of this time and place, it’s not only a lazy association with the mood of the album, but a credit to the effortlessness with which such lucid imagery is created with such painstaking production.
Such imagery is reinforced in the album’s lyrics as well. The quiet/loud dynamic of All We Ask initially seems a bit typical in the wake of Two Weeks, Droste opens the song on a hopeful note, “In this old house, I’m not alone/ In a bedroom, a telephone” but why what could be an anthemic outcry against loneliness and the strengths of communication is sung in such a tender and delicate voice – especially in comparison to Droste’s assured croon on Two Weeks – is made clear in the closing verse where Droste and Rossen harmonise a refrain “I can’t / get out / of what I’m into / with you” which is delivered with a curious regretfulness. Later, in the brief lull between the staggering squalls of majestic guitars on Fine For Now Rossen repeatedly questions an anonymous lover, “If we’re all faltering, how’d I help with that? /If it’s all or nothing, then let me go.” Droste’s mournful moans in the background only lend to the trance like quality of the lyric that sticks in the mind, the crashing guitar break that follows amplifies the longing for change and escape.
Whilst Veckatimest isn’t an album about broken relationships or loneliness per se – it’s far too rich an album to be so easily pigeonholed – there is a curious desire for self-imposed exile in the album’s lyrics, to overcome differences through surrender, which binds itself perfectly with the album’s subtle, introspective music.
The album is carefully sculpted, immaculately produced, but never to the exent where it’s sterile. It’s very much a ‘headphones’ album. Sure this it’ll mean live performances of the album will always miss that certain layer, not that it’s really a concern when the album is this immaculate. The album is huge, but never melodramatically so. It has a sonic depth that makes watching videos of its live performances on Youtube seem strangely peculiar. The scale and quality of the production is such that it’s often hard to imagine human beings creating it, let alone being able to perform a tight approximation of it live on stage. I’m wondering into wanky, Pitchfork Kid A territory, I know, but there’s something in the music that is very momentous and grand, yet very heartfelt and intimate which is something very hard to pull off.
Repeated listens are not only rewarded by a familiarity with the songs overriding composition, lyrics and hooks, but like so many of the best records you’ll be constantly noticing little layers of guitar buried deep in the mix, dis-embodied moans and supplementary drum fills that just propel the song along in ways you never noticed for months to come.
Criticisms? Sure, there’s a mid-album slump, if you could call songs like Dory or About Face ‘slumps. They’re as much ‘slumps’ because of the stunning excellence of the album’s opening and closing suites more than anything else, and, as the album’s ‘symphonic’ nature means that clear, immediate highlights are difficult to come by, it always serves the purpose of lifting lesser tracks higher.
Veckatimest is a mighty album. One of the year’s best. Its overarching artistic ambition may be its biggest fault, but as faults goes it’s a rather small one, and it’s this ambition that drives what is a peculiar effort for an album that looks set to break Grizzly Bear into some relative level of mainstream familiarity. It’s a weird album to create with such commercial considerations. The obvious singles are few and far between, it’s unapologetically a single piece, but what a piece it is.
9/10
MP3: Grizzly Bear – Fine For Now
MP3: Grizzly Bear – Two Weeks
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