By Max Hill
Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires of the City
Let me begin this review by admitting that I don’t like Vampire Weekend. No, scratch that — I didn’t like Vampire Weekend. Don’t get me wrong, I love when educated white 20-somethings co-opt African rhythms in order to sell pop records. But lead singer Ezra Koenig and the band’s pretentious post-graduate approach to popular music always struck me as a little anonymous. Despite their unique sound, Vampire Weekend’s music never struck me as anything more than middle-of-the-road fodder for iPad commercials and indie radio stations.
Modern Vampires of the City changed my mind. Maybe it’s the band’s reluctant farewell to its Afrobeat crutch; maybe it’s their new tendency towards experimentation on tracks like harpsichord-sweetened “Step” or pitch-shifted “Diane Young”, but the album feels more varied than any before it.
As he bids farewell to his turbulent 20s, Koenig’s lyrics have shed their Ivy League references in favour of a broader scope of experience. He waxes poetic over adulthood and city life without sacrificing his hyper-literary style, and comes off as more clever and less condescending in the process.
Tracks like “Finger Back” and “Worship You” are as sugary sweet as any of the band’s previous singles, but instead of grating on repeat listens, they seem to deepen and reveal new layers. In particular, drummer Chris Thompson and bassist Chris Baio are in fine form during the album’s faster-paced moments, which come off as more focused and propulsive than ever before.
For a band as popular and well-liked as Vampire Weekend, there are basically two routes from which to choose: either plunge into the mainstream deep end, like Modest Mouse and Interpol before them, or reinvent themselves entirely.
Modern Vampires of the City chooses the road less traveled, and it makes all the difference. The album is both their most experimental and easily their strongest. Vampire Weekend has left behind nearly every aspect of their sound that earned them their initial hype, and for the first time, I feel like I recognize them.
Savages – Silence Yourself
British post-punk quartet Savages aren’t fucking around. The female foursome, characterized by lead vocalist Jehnny Beth’s Siouxsie Sioux wail and Ayse Hannan’s swaggering basslines, sport a sound inextricable from their influences. It’s nearly impossible to listen to the band’s debut LP, Silence Yourself, without hearing the ghosts of Gang of Four and Joy Division.
However, instead of coming off as a spiritless rehash, Savages’ sound is aggressively modern. By employing a style designed to comment on the artificiality and emptiness of society in the 80s, the band manages to say something unique and original — and, arguably, just as compelling — about society today.
Beth’s vocals are deep and unrelenting. Her whispered refrain in “Husbands” and broken balladry in “Waiting For a Sign” speak to her confidence as a performer and conviction as a social commentator. However, much like the post-punk legends of yesteryear, Savages’ greatest asset is its rhythm section.
Acting more often than not as the band’s background vocalist, Hannan’s insistent, Peter Hook-style bass playing pumps blood into Savages’ veins, while Fay Milton’s propulsive drums follow along steadfastly, a percussive call-to-arms. Gemma Thompson’s guitar seems to revolve around her bandmates, choppy and aggressive, almost argumentative. The band’s chemistry is astonishing, considering their short time together. Each member seems to play off of one another, resulting in a compelling, powerful sound that challenges but never overwhelms.
Despite its austere lyrical content, Silence Yourself is an inviting and immersive listen. Savages make their political statements and disillusioned fury seem universal by letting their invigorating musicality speak for itself. By pairing their observant and relentlessly opaque lyrics with jagged, exhilarating post-punk, Savages have made one of the most exceptional debut records in recent memory.
Kate Bush – Hounds of Love
Hounds of Love begins with the sky and ends with the water. Not unlike David Bowie during his Berlin trilogy, Kate Bush split her 1985 masterpiece Hounds of Love into two sides: one is propelled by inventive synth pop, the other submerged in atmospheric ambience.
Having eluded the public eye after the mixed reception of her previous album, The Dreaming, Bush seems to strike back at the commercialization of her image. Though singles like “Cloudbusting” and “Running Up That Hill” are among some of Bush’s best-known and most accessible work, they’re far from the usual radio fare: The former examines the relationship between psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich and his son, while the latter explores masculinity and femininity within the confines of a romantic relationship.
On the other hand, Hounds of Love’s more avant-garde passages are always grounded by the emotional honesty of Bush’s lyrics: “Every gull seeking a craft / I can’t keep my eyes open / Wish I had my radio / I’d tune into some friendly voices,” she sings on “And Dream of Sheep,” the tender emotional ballad that opens the album’s second side. Individually credited as The Ninth Wave, the album’s profound part two is permeated by a haunting sense of desperation, given weight by Bush’s uncharacteristically measured vocal delivery. The lack of form and complexity throughout The Ninth Wave complement Bush’s more accessible tracks perfectly — the muted, melancholic yin to Side One’s mellifluous yang.
As much a comment on her own celebrity as an elaborate double concept album, Hounds of Love seems to highlight the duality of Kate Bush as the introverted eccentric and Kate Bush as the theatrical pop star. Both sides are given equal weight, and by closing track “The Morning Fog,” Bush seems to have reconciled the two into a singular, unique identity.
Like the tumultuous decade that spawned it, Hounds of Love is schizophrenic and multi-faceted, but Bush’s skill as a songwriter and tender approach as an artist unite its many themes into a singular work of art that stands among the greatest and most enduring albums of the 80s.
