Important Albums of 2010: Part Two

This is Happening, LCD Soundsystem

LCD Soundsystem had the task of fulfilling rather unreasonable expectations on their third album due to 2007’s much lauded Sound of Silver.  Murphy’s knowing grin can give the impression that he’s invincible. Surely someone with such deep understanding of the album as an art form wouldn’t allow any faulty ideas slip in and take over. Would his self-consciousness, up until this point a virtue, lead to boring stagnancy? And what of his announcement that this would be the last LCD Soundsystem album? Yeah, expectations can be a bitch.

Murphy has never been a stranger to Brian Eno-esque textures, and Sound of Silver contained more than traces (Eno’s work with Talking Heads as well as his own solo work spring to mind).  On This is Happening, Murphy delves even deeper into those influences. Berlin-era Bowie is an obvious touch point for TiS, even more so than on SoS, most obviously on the brilliant “All I Want,” whose guitar leads and climactic build-up are direct decedents of Bowie’s own “Heroes.” 

But the comparison to Bowie’s most adventurous period doesn’t end with the music itself.  Much in the same way Bowie turned inward for his revered trilogy, Murphy’s lyrics take an introspective turn. The parallels are striking; compare the transformation Bowie made from Young Americans title track to “Be My Wife” off of Low and one sees clues to Murphy’s own movement from Sound of Silver’s “North American Scum” to the agonizing “I Can Change.”  Granted, we still have Murphy’s typical, witty social observations in the form of “Drunk Girls” but even this is a much more personal take on the subject than, say, “Us V. Them.”  For possibly the first time, he lets his guard down long enough to actually be vulnerable.  Bowie always said that his DNA was in the Berlin Trilogy and This is Happening certainly has that same personal touch.

This is Happening is not for short attention spans (all but one track clocks in at over five minutes). But stick with this one. Maybe you’ll wonder like I did if the first three minutes of “Dance Yrself Clean” felt like an overly long practical joke designed to make you blow your speakers as its muted beats give way to an explosive chorus. But subsequent listens left me feeling that it was was an incredible use of dynamics.

The echoes of Murphy’s past are everywhere. The melody on “I Can Change” bares similarities to “All My Friends,” and the band still has that propulsive Kosmiche groove and Murphy’s banter is as clever as ever. This time around however, he focuses his attention primarily on crumbling relationships. Claiming that “one touch is never enough” and later pleading that he “could change if it helps you fall in love,” there is a desperate longing not merely for love but for love that actually works. Even when things start out light as on “Drunk Girls” and “Pow Pow,” confusion and dejection eventually creep in.  This is Murphy at his most bitter and most human.

So this time around, things don’t seem quite so communal, but that’s the beauty of the album.  It may not have the festival-ready vibe of Sound of Silver, but this is an exciting record I can see myself dancing to alone, in my room for years to come.  This is Happening meets and possibly even exceeds all expectations; no small feat indeed.

Important Albums of 2010: Part One

High Violet, The National

On the surface, High Violet can seem like a rather maudlin affair. The National aren’t exactly known for their feel-good hits and what “hits” there are (“Mistaken for Strangers”) don’t suggest anything more assuring. And while the album is downcast — the first two tracks alone are called “Terrible Love” and “Sorrow” — the songs themselves are elaborate and accessible, not weepy or sappy. The National come across as honest and ambitious, which in today’s landscape is a rare achievement.

The National has always been a band marked by their subtleties. Their third and forth albums, Alligator and Boxer, are slow growers that embed themselves over time. Like its predecessors, High Violet simply takes time and patience to parse out due to the band’s ornate arrangements. Given time, it’s a slow dazzle and the band’s most memorable set to date.

Everyone here brings their A-game. Matt Berninger’s baritone has a newfound maturity, managing to be both more expressive and restrained. Aaron and Bryce Dessner lay down some the most moving guitar work in The National’s catalogue and the rhythm section pounds away with expert precision.  But High Violet’s secret weapon is its gorgeous vocal arrangements; aching voices drenched in a cavernous reverb that sweep many of these songs into the ether.

The band maintains a high-wire act throughout the course of the album. The closing refrain of “Afraid of Everyone” is a conflicted repetition of “Yellow voices swallowing my soul, soul, soul, soul.” Such a dramatic claim could easily come off as ridiculous, but the music underneath is hopeful in the face of such dark humor.  As the song closes out a stirring guitar lead takes over (one that wouldn’t have been out of place on Turn on the Bright Lights) and you’re almost tempted to believe in those yellow voices.  Elsewhere, such as on “Runaway,” things remain stately and tastefully restrained even in the midst of sweeping strings.

The album’s zenith comes in the penultimate track “England.” The longing in Berninger’s voice as he sings “You must be somewhere in London” is carried to excessive levels of stunning by the band’s slow build atop an inspired piano and string part. It’s the kind of beauty you’d expect on a Sigur Ros album, and yet it remains anchored by Berninger’s poetic ruminations. And therein lies the balance on the high-wire. When the grandeur in High Violet’s music threatens to push things into a syrupy realm, it all becomes quickly grounded by concrete matters: talk of defending one’s family and being in some serious debt. This is music for real people with real problems. The band touches on the mundane aspects of life with such elegiac beauty that the album seems too genuine to be anything but universal. And in the end that is what’s so impressive; High Violet manages to show us that the ordinary can be transcendent.