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Thank You
Thank You
Terrible Two
(Thrill Jockey, 2008)
Baltimore noise-rock trio Thank You’s sophomore record is a five-song and 35-minute affair composed of aggressive melodies and non-melodies welded to kinetic drums and tacit grooves. Their approach sounds like Miles Davis’ On the Corner siphoned through the whirlpool of no-wave, and the results are splintered guitar lines, fast, intricate, imperfect drumbreaks, and cascades of organ subverted by plucky bass.
Since all of these tracks are long by conventional standards, there are progressions and arrangements that call for helpful roadmaps, at least for the initial purpose of conveying their M.O. Title track “Terrible Two” is dominated by keyboard and cymbal whitewash until 2:30, when the hook is introduced—a brooding, low-end organ riff anchored by the tribal tendencies and sleigh bells of drummer Elke Wardlaw. At 4:30 Wardlaw takes a solo, but the bass keys sneak back in and keep the song pulsating for the remaining four minutes. “Self With Yourself” has a unique arrangement in which guitarist Jeffrey McGrath and keyboardist Michael Bouyoucas take turns playing against Wardlaw for minutes on end, while sharing only a brief moment as a trio. “Pregnant Friends” is a three-part piece. It begins with fecund lyrics and clean—even acoustic—guitar, resulting in near-halcyon bliss. But at the three-minute mark, after a volley of “Shhs,” the song explodes into one of the most aggressive and exciting portions of the record, all punk, with guitars and keys churning out wails and gasps. The song ends with Bouyoucas delivering a very fuzzy keyboard-bass solo punctuated, nay punctured, by snare and cowbell courtesy of Wardlaw.
Wye Oak
Wye Oak
If Children
(Merge, 2008)
As our modern era proves again and again, the smallest things on earth are often the most important ones. DNA, CO2, ones and zeroes, they’re all pivotal forces in the infinitely complex storm that is our world. It’s therefore easy to understand how, for such a small band, Wye Oak seems to have considerable interest in things of imposing natural majesty. Formerly named Monarch (could be ruler by divine right, could be a butterfly), the band now takes its name from what was once the biggest white oak tree in the US. Before its destruction in a hurricane in 2002, the Wye Oak was Maryland’s state tree, a sprawling, centuries-old, 96-foot-tall giant of an oak tree, whose trunk alone weighed over 30 tons. To hear the wind rustling through the leaves of its incredible branches must have been one of nature’s finest choirs to behold. Wye Oak the band is just two people from Baltimore, but their songs do come and go in sweeping gusts, and their sound often strives for the majestic.
On If Children, Wye Oak’s first album, Jenn Wasner and Andy Stack split instrumental duties, though live they split only the vocals as Wasner plays guitar and Stack drums and plays keyboard. If Children was recorded during the fall and winter of 2006, but written “over the course of many years playing music—together and separately,” as the Wye Oak website states. The latter part of that statement is the most revealing, as a separation of songwriters would explain the variety of styles on the album. While not a weakness per se, it’s clear that Wye Oak is a fresh band with a wide scope that has yet to really hit its most cohesive stride. Songs vacillate from the pared-down to the grandiose, from treble-drenched gazer-pop to swaggering barroom rock. “Orchard Fair” revels in the band’s dominant mode of vast guitars, driven melody, and mighty smashes. Coupled with some drawn-out, bent guitar notes, here the Oak recalls the Swirlies as well as the more rockin’, younger side of Yo La Tengo. “I Don’t Feel Young” equally embraces Wye Oak’s rock roots with shoegaze influence slid to the fore, wrapping its sprawling guitar–charged melody into a sort of ’60s pop-shaped package at the end, not unlike the Jesus and Mary Chain were wont to do back in the day.
Life After Whiskeytown: Ryan Adams and Caitlin Cary
by: Geoffrey Himes
Who was the most important figure to emerge from the break-up of Whiskeytown—Ryan Adams or Caitlin Cary? Geoffrey Himes ponders the issue.
Whiskeytown broke up in 1999, but from the ashes of that alt-country band has emerged a solo career so striking and so satisfying that it seems destined to eclipse the band’s considerable reputation.
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by: Geoffrey Himes
published: June 11, 2008
in column: Classic Vantage
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