The theme this week is my favorite records of the year. My last review was of the follow-up to my favorite record of 2007, so I figured today was a good time to tackle the sophomore release from The Submarines, whose debut record was my favorite of 2006.
If Declare a New State was about redemption, Honeysuckle Weeks is about the time afterwards when the more mundane issues seep back into your life. There are plenty of moments of sheer wonder, but those are infused with a widespread sense of easy comfort.
This is both good and bad. It’s good because it provides a nice staging ground for them to build on their sound and explore new directions that emerge naturally. There are no radical departures but neither is it simply a re-tread. Unfortunately, the downside to the less emotionally raw follow-up (as is so often the case) is that without the hook of a deep pain, the music loses a bit of focus.
Declare a New State hit me so hard because it came from someplace dark and terrifying. In one sense, it was about hope and the power of love, but to be more accurate you might say it was about the fear that hope wouldn’t be enough and that love was a broken promise. All those conflicting emotions created a powerful sense of urgency in every song that is simply lacking this time around. This means that some songs contain nice ideas but are left to drift.
“The Wake Up Song” for example is so close to something special. You want it to fly, to sing, to break all constraints and leap off the page, but it never quite satisfies. Instead, your stuck in a loop – knowing full well that pure bliss lies just beyond your grasp. The same goes with “Maybe,” which is pretty but entirely insubstantial. I like these songs fine, but there’s just not enough melody to sustain them all by itself, and not enough going on beneath the surface to keep my interest.
Even some of the stronger tracks suffer from variations on this problem. The opening combination of “Sub Symphonika” and “Thorny Thicket” strikes me like a New England spring. You smile so broadly at that first day of the warm sun, and all it hearkens about summer. But before you have a chance to really get comfortable the clouds return and you’re stuck with a week of dreary cold. Musically, both of these suffer from a case of moderate over-production. They are just a bit too choppy to really strike me. I want them to glide and instead they rattle. There are nice songs living inside here, but they aren’t given the space to breathe.
The final weakness of the record is the two efforts at a more atmospheric sound. “1940” is surely the first true mistake in their oeuvre. They go for something moody, dark, jazzy, but it ends up just being a bit of a bore. Less troubling, but still a bit of a mis-step is “Fern Beard” which is a very mature song that just doesn’t work for me. Here, at least, the old-timeyness doesn’t feel forced, though I’m not entirely sure they stick the metaphor.
It’s hard to complain too much about these tracks though. It’s all too easy to stick with a sound that works, and you have to reward bands who make the effort to explore new avenues. So while I find these tracks a bit too dour, I appreciate the motivation.
However, in terms of expanding their sound, I think some of their more upbeat efforts work far more successfully. Most obviously, there’s the lead single “You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie” which is an absolute romp. It’s got some oomph, but they still display all of the deftness that made Declare a New State so empathetic. It’s clever, has a foot-stomping beat, and proves they are anything but a one-trick pony.
Along the same lines is “Xavia” which is probably their best effort at outfitting their standard fare of dreamy pop with a more straightforward uptempo beat that makes you want to get up and dance. And the part where Blake joins the waves of guitars with “I don’t wanna be your favorite enemy” is just sublime. Unfortunately, I’m not particularly enamored by the minute of loops and effects tacked onto the end.
Other extremely strong tracks include “Swimming Pool” which is the only one on the record that, to my ear, would have slotted effortlessly into the last record. It proves they haven’t lost the touch and reminds me of all the reasons why I instantly fell in love with this band.
Finally, there’s the last track “Brightest Hour” – almost certainly their most restrained song to date, and probably their most classically beautiful. It’s a perfect closer, with a down-to-earth optimism that feels entirely unforced.
So, the answers to the obvious questions. No, it’s not as good as their debut. Yes, sometimes it is true that the most genuine and affecting music comes from tragedy and is whitewashed by happy times. Yes, it’s still an absolutely wonderful record that comes with my full endorsement.
You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie – The Submarines
Brightest Hour – The Submarines