Espers
III
(Drag City, 2009)

With III, Espers wanted to lighten up a little. Commentary from the band and label indicate that the Philadelphia nu-folk troop had designs on spreading out the delicate and densely woven lace of their music into airier, perhaps looser netting. The intention was for more than mere modification, although nothing so drastic as a total overhaul. The essential founding triad of Greg Weeks, Meg Baird, and Brooke Sietinsons remains intact, after all, and the focal point of their unruffled vocal harmonies, guitars, keyboards, and strings continues to be at a heady juncture of tradition and the subtle innovations inherent to the contemporary foil. While there are some sanguine, late-summery swells to this round of generally autumnal compositions, it’s debatable how fully they succeeded in “lightening up,” per se. There’s no debate, however, as to whether they’ve managed to continue their streak in worthwhile contributions to the fertile contemporary indie-folk spectrum.

The three-year break between II and III may not have cracked so great a divide in stylistic continuity as they’d hoped, but the upside is that when you’ve got a good thing going, continuance ain’t bad. That said, III isn’t simply more of the same, either. There are songs here that are brighter in tone than the average older Espers tune, and emphasis has shifted away from droning atmospherics (which are still present, just not as central) and towards a slightly more forward momentum. “The Pearl” is about as sunny as Espers has ever been, be it perhaps a dappled sun sinking tenderly below the horizon. The song is centered on a melody that evokes turning-a-corner emotionalism where endings and beginnings combine, and where the stylistic innovation for the group lies in that it feels free of apprehension; a darkened scene, but not one of foreboding. “Colony” is perhaps the most successful inclusion of their striven-for lightness and new energy within their more familiar gravity, as its melody, while buoyant, isn’t necessarily indulgently “cheerful” as brisk drums do roll constantly ahead and propel the song forward.

However, their effort to concentrate on more positive tones also comes at the price of the album’s weaker moments. “Another Moon Song”, for example, is both the longest and most maundering song on the album, ambling lackadaisically along an unchanging stretch of repetition and soloing which, while perfectly listenable and gratifying in its way, is also pretty inconsequential, as even the title subtly implies. Its melodic contentment ultimately lacks the kind of tension and quiet turmoil that makes a song like “The Road of Golden Dust” perhaps the best song on the album, as the latter is by no means downcast, but still manages to carry a weight of purpose in its sideways glances at the weighty possibilities it patiently approaches. Another lag point occurs in the whirling “Sightings”, once again due to length and unanchored repetitiveness; although, forthright psychedelic swells excuse its levity by underscoring a sense of transcendent purpose to its melodic spiraling and blithe incandescence.

While III is ultimately no game-changer, it does widen the spectrum of Espers’ specific appeal to include not only the expected devotees of today’s psych-folk renaissance but perhaps also fans of yesteryear’s so-called “slowcore” movement of hushed harmonies and soft, provincial pop/folk/rock as championed by bands such as Ida, Low, American Music Club, et al. Espers remains apart from that scene through its enduring inclination towards a more psychedelic and especially British-’60s style of folk, though it’s a delineation that’s probably more important to us genre-fixated critics than to casual listeners. In the context of its own catalog, Espers’ III may not be as fully arresting as its predecessors, but is still a welcome illustration of the depth of a musical team that, when its independent strengths come together just so, is capable of great things.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]