Monday, June 09, 2008
Narrow Stairs
All right, so here's the verdict, and I'll write again if I change my mind, but I'm heartbroken.
Ben Gibbard wrote the soundtrack for my early 20s, and now it looks as though I may need to find the rest elsewhere.
I finally went out the other day and bought myself a copy of Narrow Stairs. Yes, bought it, which makes me even more entitled to have an opinion, on top of the fact that I've been with them shortly since the very beginning (thanks to Mary Carradine), and even though my friends overwhelmingly tried to pressure me to download it, I wanted to support my favorite band, even on its first major label release.
Ben and the rest of the band seem to have lost their mojo. More than that, they have lost their musicality and sentimentality. Granted, I am writing this after listening to the record just once, but that was about all I could handle.
I recently advised a friend to give it another chance, and I will, too, of course, but let's not kid ourselves: Narrow Stairs is no Plans or Transatlanticism. It's not even a Photo Album. There's nothing to make you suspect this is the same band that gave us "Styrofoam Plates" or "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," or "Song for Kelly Huckaby." There's no "Company Calls" -- not even an "I Was a Kaleidoscope."
Is this what happens? Because I am sadly reminded of a few other depressing moments in music history. This is like Death Cab's Green Album: They will gain a new audience, but what about the true fans? What's in it for us?
Granted, Gibbard's tenor is still as sweet as key lime; drummer Jason McGerr remains on time; Chris Walla can still play guitar with the best of the rest of the high and mighty; Nick Harmer, same: But where's the magic?
Where's the sincerity? Where's the reflection? Where's the breaking your heart and putting it back together? Putting you right back in some lost place, or speaking your thoughts from the back of your mind and playing the notes as you think them? Where is the deeply human, tragic yet hopeful element? Where?
It's rushed, it's repetitive, and it is too lyrical. Where are the bridges? Where are the musical breakdowns? Where are the interludes, the real intros and outros? And what the hell would you call the ending of track 10? Honestly. Who thought that was a good idea -- please don't tell me anyone at Atlantic. Someone there must know how to record.
A few years ago, I read a blog Chris Walla wrote. It was a letter to Bjork, a break-up note after her latest release.
Well, shame on you Chris. And Ben, and Nick, and Jason.
I'm not quite breaking up yet. I'll wait and see. I'll be patient and kind, like love should be. I know that with the truest love you can be let down from time to time; it's the love that can still grow through disappointment that makes it.
I had to listen to The Photo Album three times in a row yesterday just so we could temporarily reconcile our differences, and it was worth it, but please: in the words of the Beatles, "Don't Let Me Down" again. Seriously, if you give me a Maladroit or a Wake up and Smell the Coffee or worse, I don't know what I'm going to do.
All right, so here's the verdict, and I'll write again if I change my mind, but I'm heartbroken.
Ben Gibbard wrote the soundtrack for my early 20s, and now it looks as though I may need to find the rest elsewhere.
I finally went out the other day and bought myself a copy of Narrow Stairs. Yes, bought it, which makes me even more entitled to have an opinion, on top of the fact that I've been with them shortly since the very beginning (thanks to Mary Carradine), and even though my friends overwhelmingly tried to pressure me to download it, I wanted to support my favorite band, even on its first major label release.
Ben and the rest of the band seem to have lost their mojo. More than that, they have lost their musicality and sentimentality. Granted, I am writing this after listening to the record just once, but that was about all I could handle.
I recently advised a friend to give it another chance, and I will, too, of course, but let's not kid ourselves: Narrow Stairs is no Plans or Transatlanticism. It's not even a Photo Album. There's nothing to make you suspect this is the same band that gave us "Styrofoam Plates" or "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," or "Song for Kelly Huckaby." There's no "Company Calls" -- not even an "I Was a Kaleidoscope."
Is this what happens? Because I am sadly reminded of a few other depressing moments in music history. This is like Death Cab's Green Album: They will gain a new audience, but what about the true fans? What's in it for us?
Granted, Gibbard's tenor is still as sweet as key lime; drummer Jason McGerr remains on time; Chris Walla can still play guitar with the best of the rest of the high and mighty; Nick Harmer, same: But where's the magic?
Where's the sincerity? Where's the reflection? Where's the breaking your heart and putting it back together? Putting you right back in some lost place, or speaking your thoughts from the back of your mind and playing the notes as you think them? Where is the deeply human, tragic yet hopeful element? Where?
It's rushed, it's repetitive, and it is too lyrical. Where are the bridges? Where are the musical breakdowns? Where are the interludes, the real intros and outros? And what the hell would you call the ending of track 10? Honestly. Who thought that was a good idea -- please don't tell me anyone at Atlantic. Someone there must know how to record.
A few years ago, I read a blog Chris Walla wrote. It was a letter to Bjork, a break-up note after her latest release.
Well, shame on you Chris. And Ben, and Nick, and Jason.
I'm not quite breaking up yet. I'll wait and see. I'll be patient and kind, like love should be. I know that with the truest love you can be let down from time to time; it's the love that can still grow through disappointment that makes it.
I had to listen to The Photo Album three times in a row yesterday just so we could temporarily reconcile our differences, and it was worth it, but please: in the words of the Beatles, "Don't Let Me Down" again. Seriously, if you give me a Maladroit or a Wake up and Smell the Coffee or worse, I don't know what I'm going to do.
Labels: Ben Gibbard, Death Cab, Music
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