The Best Album You Never Bought 4.13.08: Indie Music Extravaganza

Posted by Dan Yates on 04.14.2008

Say 'nay' to Vampire Weekend and say 'yay' Yeasayer as we get cranky, lament growing old and feel alienated by that music the kids seem to like so much.

New week. New column. But first, the last word on last week's, uh, words.

Last week's write up looked at Billy Corgan's solo album The Future Embrace. One thing I wanted to say, but didn't — and should have included — is that the album isn't perfect. While not great, it is pretty good. As one person commented, there is some "cringe-worthy" stuff on the disc, but songs like "Mina Loy," "The CameraEye," "To Love Somebody," "A100," and "DIA" (which all appear in succession) are strong enough to warrant a firm recommendation. If nothing else, it's a pleasant listen that deserves more attention than it got. End of discussion.

With that said, it's onto something new as we compare two of today's indie rock extremes.


Vampire Weekend … will suck … for your ears

I don't know what a Vampire Weekend is, but if listening to them is any indication it's a lot like two days of heavy drinking — it makes you groggy and regretful, gives you a headache and leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth.

I am a laugh riot.

At this point, I am thinking most have heard of Vampire Weekend or caught a glimpse of them on TV or elsewhere. As I write this, they have the 73rd top selling album in the U.S.A. Sure, they haven't blown up like the Hannah Montana's of the world, but they've captured something and are resonating with someone — but that someone isn't me.

I have a process. Any time I try to form an opinion on an album, movie, TV show, novel, etc… I try and remove myself from the equation. Ignoring my personal, immediate reaction to the piece, I try and consider who the intended audience is and what is being offered that's interesting, challenging or unique. Lastly, I comparatively consider other things that same audience may also enjoy. After balancing all three of these factors, I can determine the merits of pretty much anything. It's a gift.

But it's hard for me to think of Vampire Weekend in an objective manner — something about this ragtag group of college hipsters irks me. It's not that I simply dislike their act. My distaste for the band's music runs deeper than that. I can't fathom why someone would like them. I have no sympathy for their cause.

To be fair though, this is probably an "it's not you, it's me" situation.

Vampire Weekend is among the first bands to make me feel old. This is a reaction I have had to a couple of groups (see: Holy Fuck) that are jumping to the forefront of the proverbial "indie music" scene — a collection of musicians ubiquitously labeled as such by the press, which has been hyping bands in such a fashion for a while now. In the early 2000s, as a subscriber to both Rolling Stone and Spin, I was bombarded with magazine covers and articles proclaiming, "rock is back." And I bought into it, purchasing albums by the bands that adorned those covers — The White Stripes, The Strokes and The Hives (I skipped over The Vines).

While those bands continue to produce (for the most part) quality music, they are now largely removed from that scene (whether they transcended the label or became the establishment, I am unsure). In their place is a new batch of bands that seem to be equal parts music and fashion. They all look the same and they all sound the same — skinny jeans, out-of-season scarves and bouncy keyboard-driven numbers. My roommate argues that many of these bands lack a certain kind of spirit or — if you will — "heart." And he's on to something. Too many bands are trying to out quirk one another by writing the most aloof and dissonant song possible. Every move seems calculated and no one looks like they are having any fun. It's a routine that lacks the kind of spiritual authenticity we credit to rock and roll heroes of the past. It's a new breed of rock star for a new breed of rock fans. Pop music has passed me by. And that's why I can't like Vampire Weekend.


Vampire Weekend likes the opening credits to Wes Anderson movies

On most of their self-titled debut album, Vampire Weekend comes off as a kind of Paul Simon-goes-geek version of the Strokes. With Ezra Koenig's hoppy voice and the band's chirpy sound — underscored by orchestral beds and blippy keyboard parts — the album isn't a completely unoriginal effort. But the act wears thin, the lyrics aren't nearly as clever as I think the band thinks they are, and the songs build up, break down, and then build back up to nothing. It's an unrewarding experience. I can't help but think that other artists would better serve listeners — like, oh, Paul Simon and The Strokes. Other better bands include: Patrick Wolf, Joel Plaskett, Final Fantasy or, heck, even Bedouin Soundclash.

I realize, after thinking about it, that most of those people are Canadian. You may not have heard of them. Future column ideas!

My real recommendation though is Yeasayer.

Like a folk-influenced version of The Mars Volta, Yeasayer is a band whose sound has enough roots in the archetypical pop song to sound familiar and comfortable while still being out there enough to fit under the ominous indie label. They've gotten some attention as of late, including appearances on both Conan O'Brien and Jools Holland — officially making the band hip — but I am not sure their name has moved out of ultra cool circles. Don't hold that against the band. You should still get their album.

The band's first effort, All Hour Cymbals, is a collage of genres with some rich guitar parts, smart writing and even some tribal-esque chanting that, surprisingly, isn't totally grating. Songs like "Wait for Summer" and "Germs" have a rotund sound that I hope helps the album surpass the scene from which it comes. Years from now, when people revisit this album, they won't be saying "this sounds like 2008." At this point, I don't think Vampire Weekend will meet such a favorable fate.


Yeasayer's album cover makes everyone confused and uncomfortable

At a glance, Yeasayer seem to be a humorless bunch, but look closely and you'll find the brand of irony that is sorely lacking in the Vampire Weekend album. The album's standout track, "2080" paints a bleak picture of today and the future in the kind of nonsensical way best suited for pop tunes. The song opens with the following:

I can't sleep when I think about the times we're living in,
I can't sleep when I think about the future I was born into,
Outsiders dressed up like Sunday morning,
With no Berlin wall what the hell you gonna do.

Yeasayer hates George Bush and has read Nineteen Eighty-Four. They want to tell you about it. I am willing to listen. When I want social commentary in my music I like it in its most simple punk rock "rabble rabble we're angry" form or in fantastical constructions that confront matters in the highest form by making no sense whatsoever. The middle ground, in between these two extremes, is U2 territory. It's unnecessarily preachy and overstates its own importance and relevance.

When you write a line like the above, yes you're talking about an issue or condition, but you're doing in it in a way that you have to know is ridiculous. This humbles the work. It's like that wink to the camera in a really bad movie that lets you know the actors, writers and directors know it's bad — transforming the movie and making it noticeably better.

And at the end of the day, that's what Vampire Weekend is missing — some sign that lets you know they are in on the joke.

I could be wrong though. If you can make a convincing argument that Vampire Weekend is worth listening too, let me know. I am open to suggestions. I'll get my scientists to look at it and maybe we can find some common ground.