Pitchfork
February 22, 2010
Link
4.8
Via Audio's band van has the word "SNOB" painted on its side in cartoonish block letters. The Brooklyn-based, Berklee-educated foursome surely aren't the only music lovers who self-identify that way these days-- even beyond their home borough. Based on the recent chart successes of Vampire Weekend, Grizzly Bear, and Animal Collective, a growing portion of U.S. record buyers now think a lot like critics. If widespread connoisseurship leads to more adventurousness inside and outside the mainstream, as Solange Knowles' Dirty Projectors cover or Antony Hegarty's Beyoncé cover appear to portend, then the stage could be set for some of the weirdest and most exciting pop in ages.
As Animalore shows, however, the new snobbishness isn't always for the best. That's a shame, because the mature, earnestly proficient folk-pop of Via Audio's first LP, 2007's Say Something, was mild-mannered to a fault. Again produced by Spoon's Jim Eno, Animalore keeps its predecessor's smooth gloss and evident chops, demonstrating why Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla was an early supporter, but adds touches of funk, R&B, and cloying humor. With songwriting that veers between snoozy and face-palming, it's the kind of sophomore album that makes you question whether the debut deserved so much love in the first place. To paraphrase Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, true expertise is knowing there's a whole lot we don't know.
For instance, I don't know how much it matters that Animalore shares its name with a rare 1953 "animalanthology" featuring Lewis Carroll. If there's a concept here, it's subtle: "The Lizard Song" ably ventures into tropicalia; "Tigers" rides an indie pop groove but catches its tapping toe on Mother Goose-like rhymes. Animalore's charms are subtle, too, but easier to find. Spoon's Eno establishes a dubby sense of space beginning with the jazzy chords and thick bass of coolly seductive opener "Hello". Co-songwriter Jessica Martins' light, versatile voice should please fans of former tourmates Headlights, particularly on acoustic-to-technicolor finale "Happening"-- the album's best song. Martins also keeps the Fleetwood Mac-dreaming "Summer Stars" and castanets-kissed "Wanted" from collapsing underneath their complex arrangements. She can't save "Goldrush", which sounds like a 1970s-era "Sesame Street" ditty about the Olympics, but its hook should be sharp enough to catch some listeners.
When Via Audio engage with recent chart pop, though, they bring an ironic distance that can be... off-putting. It's hard to imagine anyone would actually "want to make babies" to first mp3 "Babies", which turns the sci-fi synths and slinky rhythms of a Timbaland production into wry parody. "Digital" adopts the deadpan electro of LCD Soundsystem to broach the shocking revelation that pop stars use Auto-Tune: "It doesn't even matter how good you are," co-songwriter Tom Deis sneers, aghast. It's sad and embarrassing hearing complaints about "something 12-year-olds will like" from a band that elsewhere sings, "Olga, the poetry of music rises like the ashes of a life before I knew you." As long as pop is going to encourage us would-be connoisseurs, here's hoping it doesn't forget about the 12-year-olds-- or the 17-year-olds, either.
As Animalore shows, however, the new snobbishness isn't always for the best. That's a shame, because the mature, earnestly proficient folk-pop of Via Audio's first LP, 2007's Say Something, was mild-mannered to a fault. Again produced by Spoon's Jim Eno, Animalore keeps its predecessor's smooth gloss and evident chops, demonstrating why Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla was an early supporter, but adds touches of funk, R&B, and cloying humor. With songwriting that veers between snoozy and face-palming, it's the kind of sophomore album that makes you question whether the debut deserved so much love in the first place. To paraphrase Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, true expertise is knowing there's a whole lot we don't know.
For instance, I don't know how much it matters that Animalore shares its name with a rare 1953 "animalanthology" featuring Lewis Carroll. If there's a concept here, it's subtle: "The Lizard Song" ably ventures into tropicalia; "Tigers" rides an indie pop groove but catches its tapping toe on Mother Goose-like rhymes. Animalore's charms are subtle, too, but easier to find. Spoon's Eno establishes a dubby sense of space beginning with the jazzy chords and thick bass of coolly seductive opener "Hello". Co-songwriter Jessica Martins' light, versatile voice should please fans of former tourmates Headlights, particularly on acoustic-to-technicolor finale "Happening"-- the album's best song. Martins also keeps the Fleetwood Mac-dreaming "Summer Stars" and castanets-kissed "Wanted" from collapsing underneath their complex arrangements. She can't save "Goldrush", which sounds like a 1970s-era "Sesame Street" ditty about the Olympics, but its hook should be sharp enough to catch some listeners.
When Via Audio engage with recent chart pop, though, they bring an ironic distance that can be... off-putting. It's hard to imagine anyone would actually "want to make babies" to first mp3 "Babies", which turns the sci-fi synths and slinky rhythms of a Timbaland production into wry parody. "Digital" adopts the deadpan electro of LCD Soundsystem to broach the shocking revelation that pop stars use Auto-Tune: "It doesn't even matter how good you are," co-songwriter Tom Deis sneers, aghast. It's sad and embarrassing hearing complaints about "something 12-year-olds will like" from a band that elsewhere sings, "Olga, the poetry of music rises like the ashes of a life before I knew you." As long as pop is going to encourage us would-be connoisseurs, here's hoping it doesn't forget about the 12-year-olds-- or the 17-year-olds, either.
