For a new band, a successful debut can be more a curse than a blessing. How can you escape the record’s shadow without making something so different that you alienate existing fans? It’s such a conundrum that there’s a term for it: the Sophomore Slump.
Bands rise or fall on the strength of their second record. Hundreds of acts fade into obscurity after failing to deliver on the promise of their debut.
But some bands make an indisputable masterpiece.
Hype is a strange beast. The whims of the masses (and record label marketing departments) are fickle and unreliable. Bands come out of the ether draped in hype and mass acclaim, only to disappear shortly after without much of an impact.
And when Gorilla Manor first dropped, I completely expected Local Natives to be another one of these flash-in-the-pan, Apple-commercial-soundtrack bands.
Rarely have I been more wrong.
I first saw Pittsburgh’s Lawn Care passing through my local coffeehouse venue. They played a “stripped” set that included two guitars, a bass guitar, and a trumpet. And even in such a minimalist context, they were absolutely hypnotizing.
So when I caught them playing as a full band, I was entranced. I had to have the record.
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I don’t know a whole lot about Hop Along. I know that they’re on Saddle Creek—home of bands like Bright Eyes and Cursive—and I know that I’ve heard their name tossed around among emo circles.
With this information, I expected a lot of heart-tugging songwriting and emotive delivery.
I did not expect it to be so damn catchy. Continue reading
The Besnard Lakes claim to be a dark horse. And while the cooing harmonies that open the album might seem to suggest otherwise, they quickly prove themselves to be a few shades more menacing than most of their indie rock counterparts.
Being a well-loved indie darling is something of a double-edged sword. You can either suffer in anonymity while your immense talent fails to find the appreciation it deserves, or you can find widespread success and get labeled a sell-out.
And ever since hopping on a major-label with Plans, every new Death Cab For Cutie album has been treated with speculation and dismissal.
Often, when a band jumps between genres, it betrays a lack of self-awareness—a sign that they have no idea what their voice sounds like.
But on As Tall As Lion’s swan song, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“If there’s no such thing as time, you’re already there,” asserts the professorial voice that opens the record.
But given that it took me seven years to add this record to my collection, I have to take issue with his claims.
Once upon a time, the Church was the center of all high art. Most important musical and artistic works during the Renaissance were commissioned by the Church to announce the mysteries of the Divine.
But over the last few hundred years, things have changed. Christian art is now the realm of cheap, oversentimental schlock that sells on sentiment alone.
Kings Kaleidoscope has had enough of it.
