headlessparrot's Full Review: The Grand Archives [Slipcase] by Grand Archives
The Onion A.V. Club featured an interesting blog entry several weeks ago, enquiring into a curious phenomenon whereby bands – or even just band names – have become a shorthand for all that’s wrong with a genre of music. The most obvious example that they mentioned was Nickelback, whose very name has become interchangeable with the genre of middling mainstream rock that the band operates within. But more interesting examples include The Decemberists and Death Cab For Cutie, standing in for a bevy of mopey, needlessly intellectual indie rockers who revel in the mundane, the obscure, and/or the melodramatic. Ignoring the fact that I was unaware Decemberists-hating had become fashionable in elite circles, this is an interesting observation because I think there’s a small germ of truth to it. Though they’ve developed a lot more bombast on their recent releases (especially 2006’s The Crane Wife), there’s certainly an argument that the band – or at least a caricaturized incarnation of it – is guilty of many of the traits that mark indie rock at its most farcical: Colin Meloy’s nasal voice and his overtly literary lyricism, the band’s more-is-better approach to almost-archaic ornamentation, and so on. Admitting this doesn’t change the fact, for me, that the Decemberists are a remarkable (and remarkably smart) band. But it does provide for some perspective on why others wouldn’t like them, and forces me to reassess what makes a band like Nickelback so appealing to so many. Or it would, if Nickelback wasn’t just a peddler objectively awful modern rock.
Interestingly, another shorthand-band mentioned for indie rock – there were a few – was Band of Horses (or “Band of Goddamned Horses,” as A.V Club’s Jason Heller puts it), who similarly (allegedly) peddle a stereotype of the bland and inoffensive that hardly deserves to be called alternative, because it’s so glaringly obvious and conventional. At least, that seems to be the way they’re viewed in this game of god-awful shorthand. And like with the Decemberists, I think there’s an element of truth to this, even if I ultimately disagree. Aside from a heaping of southern-fried twang, there’s really not much on the surface to distinguish Band of Horses from any number of typical indie rock bands. They aren’t especially dynamic, their sound isn’t particularly unique, and Ben Bridwell’s voice is remarkably run-of-the-mill. The upside, of course, is that they write brilliant songs within this comfortable milieu (“No One’s Gonna Love You” from their 2007 album Cease To Begin hits all of the genre clichés and was still probably the year’s most transcendent love song).
I mention all of this for two main reasons: the first is that Seattle-based Grand Archives (formerly just Archives) are yet another band, like the Decemberists and Band of Horses, who will be easily caricaturized as representing the worst clichés of American indie music, in spite of the fact that their self-titled debut album is nothing short of wonderful. The second is that this is probably no coincidence, because that the leader of Grand Archives, Mat Brooke, was formerly one-half of Band of Horses’ songwriting team. And Grand Archives, for what it’s worth, answers quite a few of the questions about their songwriting relationship that arose from the stylistic disparities between Band of Horses’ debut (Everything All The Time) and its Brooke-less follow-up (Cease To Begin). Both albums are great, and similar, but the small differences speak volumes: the former is more melodic and breezy; the latter is tenser, more immediate. And while Everything All The Time carefully marries country nuance to mainstream indie rock sound, Cease To Begin uses the absence of Brooke to do the opposite: layering indie rock flourish over what is otherwise a remarkably twangy, Southern-folk record. So it shouldn’t surprise anyone to find that Grand Archives mostly abandons any pretence of Southern influence. What may be surprising is that its indie rock leanings are buoyed by a tremendous slathering of ostentatious and unabashed pop sensibility. It’s less Neil Young, in other words, and more Donovan.
Reducing Grand Archives to Brooke is perhaps unfair given that this is a whole band, but it’s certainly the most compelling narrative for a group that has apparently let their music do the talking (and which is made up of so many of Brooke’s former conspirators). Reducing Brooke to his (pretty important) role in Band of Horses, similarly, is possibly even more unfair, given that he also fronted another indie group, Carissa’s Wierd (with Bridwell as well, incidentally). But by departing Band of Horses just as they were achieving acclaim (only months after the release of their much-lauded debut), and, it’s conceivable that Brooke has invited these comparisons – especially given that both Band of Horses and his newest venture are easily (albeit incorrectly, I would suggest) pegged as the physical embodiments of the conventionality of "safe" modern indie rock.
But back to the point: what do I mean by unabashed pop sensibility? Notice, for example, the gorgeous three and four-part harmonies, the whistled melodies, maracas, jangling guitars, banjos, accordions, synths, pump organs (?), harmonicas, horns, and (yes) gaudy strings (I suspect that the sound of an approaching train in “Louis Riel” evokes the close of The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds for a reason). And then ignore them, to focus on how infectious, orchestral, and FM radio-ready Grand Archives is overall. I have nothing bad to say about Band of Horses’ Cease To Begin – it’s a fairly muted and oppressive, but compellingly tense and insular album (to the point where it earned a high placement on my Best Of 2007 list) – but Grand Archives and their self-titled debut certainly make an argument for its dispensability. Like comparing an early talkie with Technicolor film (actually, that’s an apt metaphor, because Grand Archives’ greatest strength may be its vibrancy, the way it glows and shimmers with musical colour).
What’s more impressive is that it does so – and sounds surprisingly fresh and innovative in the process – while hitting all the aforementioned cues of much-derided stereotypical indie rock: droning guitars, earnest, lyrically pretentious, vocally unimpressive, and semi-obscure. Some people will hate it for this, in the same way that they hate the Decemberists. But I love it for its baby-steps approach to creating something new and interesting, by framing the unorthodox subtly within something more familiar. There’s nothing especially “out there” on Grand Archives, but its curious musical trimmings are a proof-of-concept for the comfort limits in conventional indie rock. It’s also possible, alternately, that I’m devising obtuse and overtly conditional justifications for liking something that is pretty tame in the grand scheme of things – not “Band of Goddamned Horses” indie-stereotypical, but as readily market-tested as an indie rock Coca-Cola. In which case it’s worth mentioning that even if I am deluding myself, there’s still a lot of worthwhile music to be had here, though that observation is coming from someone who does like Band of Horses (and the Decemberists, and Death Cab For Cutie). The fact that I’m consciously wrestling with this theory is conceivably the only reason why I’ve assigned Grand Archives four stars rather than five.
But if I’m onto something, I’ll continue by readily admitting that others, granted, have explored the same territory (Vampire Weekend took it several steps further by stirring in a heaping tablespoon of Afro-pop), but they’ve done so at the cost of what made them an alternative band in the first place.
Album opener “Torn Blue Foam Couch” is, perhaps unwisely, probably Grand Archives’ most conventional moment. Beginning as the lovechild of Curtis Mayfield’s “P.S. I Love You” and Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight,” "Torn Blue Foam Couch" shifts from ballad to rocker, but maintains its reverb-drenched, atonal dissonance throughout, building (via heavy snare) to a tense, layered crescendo of droning guitars and multi-tracked vocals. It’s an interesting, carefully structured song, with a surprisingly sunny, California-pop disposition, but it possibly sets the wrong tone for an album that should be notable for a lot more than just drone (though that’s certainly part of the story). Immediately following is “Miniature Birds,” by contrast a brilliant summertime jingle, driven by its casually percussive guitar strums and the wonderful interplay of the harmonica and Brooke’s whistling. A wonderfully understated horn solo (full disclosure: I’ve always been an easy mark for the use of horns in rock music) tucked away between verses sets a pleasant tone for the rest of the record.
The maracas of “Swan Matches” and the swells of “Index Moon” underpin what are possibly the album's most Band of Horses-like songs (shades of “The Great Salt Lake”), the former for its evocative internal tension and the latter for its dramatic guitar crashes and brilliant dynamics. In “Swan Matches,” guitars drone, and the intermittent female harmonies (courtesy of Jenn Ghetto) and subtle strings create palpable unease in something that’s almost ethereally beautiful.
“George Kaminski” is considerably less orchestral, but no less dramatic, eschewing the electricity for strummed folksy acoustic guitars and decidedly bluegrass accentuation. What’s really impressive is the way Brooke uses his less-than-conventional voice – to capture the song’s understated, weary tone, the frenzied repetition of one line ("If ever I'd known") a verbal accompaniment to the band’s obvious affectation for reverb. The instrumental “Breezy No Breezy,” meanwhile, is a sort of indie-rock waltz/tango structured around a sneaking bassline and unusual accordion swells. And “Louis Riel” – named for the famous Canadian traitor-cum-father of Confederation – is a wonderfully quirky, almost mechanized shuffle that sounds remarkably warm and human despite its jerky rhythmic movements.
“The Crime Window” has been (maybe correctly) derided as Grand Archives’ worst track, and the truth is that its cacophonous mash-up of horns, guitars, and harmonized shouting vocals – more reminiscent of Broken Social Scene than Band of Horses - certainly feels out of place on an otherwise understated record. But its rambunctiousness is infectious, and it’s plainly apparent from the chaotic melody and the bordering-on-laughter shouts that this is the most fun a band has had in a studio since... Well, since the real Broken Social Scene put out a record, most likely. The point being that this being the worst Grand Archives has to offer speaks volumes about Brooke’s immaculate craftsmanship. And that craftsmanship is no more apparent than on closer “Orange Juice,” a breezy, sub-two-minute mandolin-and-horn-fuelled tropical excursion that flirts with flamenco and, ultimately, expertly summarizes Brooke’s unspoken defence of indie-pop integration.
Grand Archives are interesting because their debut shows that they’ve incorporated quirky, erstwhile elements into their music successfully, whilst still remaining a defiantly scrappy indie band at heart. And success or conviction aside, few have made this exploration (of the almost-familiar, no less) as purely pretty and fun as Grand Archives. Except for maybe the aforementioned Vampire Weekend, but Vampire Weekend is far enough “out there” themselves that a one-to-one comparison is unfair, primarily because it ignores the fact that Grand Archives haven't shown any interest in operating outside of a more-or-less typical alt-rock setting. They’re merely interested – or seem interested, based on their debut – in making indie rock records with a sly pop twist. Grand Archives might not win awards for originality, but the resulting songs are such sparkling gems in any case that it’s hard to take issue.
I never had the opportunity to hear Band of Horses’ debut, Everything All The Time, until after Mat Brooke had left the band. When I finally did – just months before the release of follow-up Cease To Begin – I was saddened by the dissolution of what I saw as an effortlessly luminous songwriting team so quickly. It turns out, obviously, that I was quite wrong, and that Ben Bridwell is a marvellous writer with or without his former collaborator. Fortunately, so is Brooke. This isn’t Lennon-McCartney, Morrissey-Marr, or Strummer-Jones, so there’s no net loss here. Rather, it’s – as Pitchfork suggested – a sort of artistic mitosis. One has become two, and neither has lost a thing in the process. Listeners, though, have gained a lot: twice as much easily-caricaturized (but nonetheless wonderful) indie rock.
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
![The Grand Archives [Slipcase] by Grand Archives](http://di1.shopping.com/images1/pi/4b/3c/10/2045742026-177x150-0-0.jpg)
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.