For all my seemingly-encyclopedic knowledge of the musical landscape, I have a few glaring blind spots. There are musicians who have left indelible marks on the world that have left me unscathed. Bands with massive cult followings that I have ignored. Albums that have changed lives while I have moved on oblivious.
These omissions are numerous. But I get the notion that few are more glaring, foolish, and maybe even offensive than my ignorance of Frightened Rabbit, who for years has floated amorphously in a nebulous blob with the Mountain Goats, Mount Eerie, Lord Huron, and any other songwriter-heavy project with a full band name that my brain categorizes together because of their similar names.
But recently, a friend who is a fan learned of the Frightened-Rabbit-shaped hole in my heart and sought to fill it himself, ordering me a copy of their fourth record, Pedestrian Verse, which I gather is a dark horse fan favorite. And while it’s going to take time for me to absorb this record the way it’s meant to, it’s immediately apparent why the band is so beloved.
It’s not like I’m completely ignorant of Frightened Rabbit. I’d heard enough to make a superficial judgment on their sound—no-frills, piano-heavy folk rock that shined a spotlight on the late Scott Hutchison’s Scottish-accented crooning. Nice enough stuff, but not for me.
However, that idea was shattered pretty quickly by Pedestrian Verse. There are plenty of frills. The instrumental work is much closer to bands like Interpol or The National than what I was expecting. Drums are electric and propulsive. The guitars are thick with delay and reverb pedals, creating a rich atmosphere. The bass frequently drives the songs with a post punk urgency, especially on tracks like “Holy.” While there’s certainly some piano, the keyboard work is most commonly done on synthesizer.
However, Scott’s songwriting is every part the focal point as I was led to believe—and rightly so. He has a talent for making small, personal moments feel immense. Inappropriately placed Freudian slips and awkward moments with his father become seismic events. “Acts of Man” paints voyeurs and date rapists as a corruption of Medieval knights’ valor and strength, while “State Hospital” examines the women that have to live with them. Each song unfolds into massive dramas built on small moments. Separated from the music, it could almost pass for a collection of short stories from someone like Joyce or Hemingway.
It’s hard to not kick myself for ignoring Frightened Rabbit for so long, but there’s only so much time in the day: only so much time I can spend chasing each divergent trail of musical discovery. And in the end, Pedestrian Verse lives up to everything fans have built up Frightened Rabbit to be. I’m just glad to finally join the choir.