Death Cab's latest launches 1000 shits, but not in the cool way.
It's not too surprising that Death Cab released an album like this. After all, each album they have released has been more uninspired and uncreative than their last. Narrow Stairs was listenable, I mean, “Cath...'s” jazziness was unique and “I Will Possess Your Heart” was, as I see it, an entertaining, creepy homage to The Police's “Every Breath You Take.” Plans was an indie-rock hit via the captivation of 14-year-olds. It seems all the more evident that they will never achieve their iconic Something About Airplanes or even Transatlanticism sound. The point made here is that Death Cab has released their worst album yet.
Death Cab dives into their new mess with “Home is a Fire,” which is a chill, whispery piece with a drowsy sense to it. Ben Gibbard's reverb is excessive, creating a sonic representation of our descent into sleep; which is exactly what it will do. The title track follows, stylized as a circus march with a symphonic layer. This song's lyrics seem to imply that we all need to cope with our basic human emotions, like jealousy, as Gibbard closes the second track with a repeated “We are alive.”
Many times song titles lead to a sense of predictability in a corresponding song's lyrics. “Some Boys,” Codes and Keys' third track, is one of those songs.
Have Gibbard's lyrics always been so vague? “Doors Unlocked and Open” has forced me to ponder this, as I have no idea what the meaning of this song is. Musically, the song is rather reminiscent of the album's first track with its fast-paced quality, repetition, and dreaminess. Luckily, the album's single, “You Are a Tourist” is more blatant, although the metaphor of the “tourist” is an exhausted one. Regardless, it's probably one of the album's stronger tracks, given the guitar riff is rather catchy making this song the equivalent of Narrow Stairs' “Cath...”
The album mellows into “Unobstructed Views,” or the soundtrack to some kid's stop-motion video of his home city that he posts on his Tumblr. It's relaxing, but completely silent and easy to overlook in the scheme of the album and of Death Cab's repertoire.
Once I got to the seventh track, the songs truly start molding into each other. “Monday Morning” utilizes the same musical voices it seems as many of the album's first tracks. Death Cab likes being swift all too often. The commentary presented in the song comes off as cliché gibberish about the necessity for change in our lives.
Off-beat piano and plenty of “OHHHH's” lead the next song “Portable Television.” (I think Death Cab has a thing for song titles that are normal and dull on this record.) But once again, in regards to the album's repeated musical themes, the tempo and piano played like a cave-man alludes to the song “Codes and Keys.” “Underneath the Sycamore” is also “the same” as the rest of the record. The album becomes tedious at this point, as it becomes clear that the majority of the songs have one of two qualities: tons of piano pounding or swift and spacey.
“St. Peter's Cathedral” I almost liked, for it seemed that Gibbard told everyone else in the band to just stop overdoing it. Upon first listening, I could have sworn it was a cleaner, childish James Blake tune. But don't worry, as always Gibbard attempts to create something anthemic and touching as the song goes on trying to capitalize on emotion with far from lo-fi vocal and guitar effects. Great for fans of The Edge.
I think anyone could have called the album's conclusion, a head-bobbing, acoustic guitar tune: “Stay Young, Go Dancing.” Gibbard refers to a “her/she” that we do not know, comparing her voice to a “symphony.” (Wow, that's so like, enlightening.) Listening in, I was longing for something dissonant; something you really couldn't sing along to (see “Line of Best Fit” from Something About Airplanes.) In this respect, this album is disappointing even though it was expected. Hopeful is not in this record's character, and I do not feel as such for the next Death Cab release.
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