Hi there loyal reader(s). Two posts in a week from the Mitchfork gang -- impressive stuff after months of silence. Don't read too much into it though -- it's not a trend so much as we were randomly struck by inspiration a couple times in close succession. Per our last post, we're not even positive we'll produce an end-of-year "best of" list -- that's how much indie rock has exhausted us.
Speaking of exhausted, The Wrens are presumably so tired out by their non-music lives that they can't even muster a follow-up to one of the best albums of the 2000s (to see Mitchfork back up this statement, we will direct your attention to the #19 pick on our revised "The Top 20 Albums of the 2000s" list). Even for a band that took seven years from their second album (the perfectly swell if a little under-done Secaucus) to their third, a decade-long wait seems to bode ill for their chances of ever releasing any new material. If that is in fact the case, then The Meadowlands will also benefit from its legacy not being overshadowed by the subsequent work of a less-inspired band. Because, make no bones about it, this is an inspired album.
We mentioned in our last post that "indie rock" is used today as an umbrella term to encompass many different styles of music (everything from chill wave to freak folk to baroque pop), but this is an album we would proudly present, right alongside Slanted and Enchanted, Bee Thousand or Lonesome Crowded West, as a collection of songs that perfectly encapsulates what indie rock is supposed to be (in our humble opinion). It's rough and decidedly lo-fi at points (album stand-out "Everyone Choose Sides" comes at you with a mighty wall of staticy guitars that coalesce into a catchy anthem of a pop song) but there's no hiding the hooks, and even though it bubbles with a reckless energy, there's an air of resignation hanging over all of it.
It's the work of a bunch of 30-somethings, bruised by their lives, their loves and their failures, not of successful musicians who hit it big at 22 and never looked back. There's a line from Interpol's Paul Banks on the band's disappointing fourth album Interpol where he laments "I have succeeded/I won't compete for long." Not only does it sum up why Interpol as a band (and so many others) run out of steam, but it also an accurate summation of why The Meadowlands' harsh edges cut so deep: it's an album by a group of men who were not dulled by success and who, closing in on middle age, still had a lot to say and the musical chops to back it up.
"Because I'm caught/I can't type/I can't temp/I'm way past college/No ways out/No back doors, not anymore/But then once a while/We’ll play a show then that makes it worthwhile" Those are our favorite lines from our favorite song on the album, "This Boy Is Exhausted." No description of the Wren's lyrics would be complete without a mention of Charles Bissell's raw, straining and soaring vocals, and here in particular they add a desperate bite to these world-weary words. There's no posturing here, just a bruisingly personal confession about their struggles and minor triumphs. That's the thing -- everything about The Meadowlands feels refreshingly genuine, which is why we suspect these ramshackle pop songs will continue to deliver the goods even after our gray hairs outnumber our brown ones.
And now, we will again climb down from our soap box. We doubt we'll be getting back on it for some time. Enjoy the summer everyone and know we love you. Especially you, Bob Benson, resident "good guy" of Mad Men, a man who may very well be a serial killer. Only time will tell...
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