Pitchfork
March 11, 2010
Link
7.2
It's been a while since Danger Mouse or the Shins did anything to change your listening habits, let alone your life. In the past decade, Danger Mouse's landmark Grey Album mash-up and membership in Gnarls Barkley helped anticipate indie rock's increasing openness to hip-hop and R&B crossovers. A couple of years earlier, James Mercer paved the way for future indie crossover success stories with the Shins' Garden State contribution and controversial Olympics-aired McDonald's commercial. That the pair's paths might eventually cross was more inevitable than unexpected.
Mercer and Danger Mouse's debut as Broken Bells is not quite up to the level of either's best projects, but in its own quiet way, it hits its marks. The pair first worked together on the David Lynch/Sparklehorse project Dark Night of the Soul, and Broken Bells picks up the sadsack spirit of that record-- it's a deceptively catchy album centered on personal loss. It's unclear whether we're supposed to trace Mercer's lyrical malaise to a shattered relationship with his band (Mercer split with Shins mates Marty Crandall and Jesse Sandoval in 2008), a lover, or both. But this much is certain: Something has ended.
In the album's brightest moments, there are enough swooning harmonies, replayable choruses, and psych-baked production elements that you might not even notice Mercer's dark thoughts. Besides, the singer is clearly attempting to move on here, taking advantage of this fresh setting to try on new looks: film-score orchestration and acid flange meet a Pet Sounds-like vocal odyssey on "Your Head Is on Fire"; "The Mall & the Misery" opens with Springsteen-ian Americana and then veers off into post-punk guitar stabs; "Sailing to Nowhere" is a horror-show waltz; and Mercer's nearly unrecognizable falsetto on album standout "The Ghost Inside" recalls the high, cracked croon of another Danger Mouse collaborator, Blur/Gorillaz singer Damon Albarn.
An early version of the record included a nicely gloomy song with Knife-like vocal effects that's been replaced by the sumptuous psych-pop balladry of "Citizen". "Trap Doors", already one of the album's catchiest songs, benefits from some extra synths and backing vocals, and "October" has a few new lyrics.
Still, unlike its creators' best prior accomplishments, Broken Bells doesn't seem prepared, or even attempting, to cross over. Nor does it feel like a new direction or outlet for either artist-- it's more of a nice detour. In one of the record's more cheerful moments, amid the shambling acoustic guitar and slithering keyboard of "October", he shares some helpful advice: "Don't run, don't rush, just float." It's what he and Danger Mouse do here, and while that's hardly a recipe for breaking new ground, the results are rarely less than pleasant.
