General Ratings:
Rating: 8
Breadth of Appeal: 6
Consistency of Quality: 7
RIYL: Tapes ‘n Tapes, Broken Social Scene, Cursive
Further Listening: Oxford Collapse, Desaparecidos, Kevin Drew
Place of Origin: Chicago, IL
Instrument/Sounds List: Electric Guitar, Bass, Drums, Keyboards, Vocals, Female Backup Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Banjo, Shaker, Handclaps, Tambourine, Whistling, Typewriter
Mood Tones: Walking through the city to a party of yet unknown quality.
Song Highlights: Taking Tips from the Gallery Gang, Winston, Happens to Us All Otherwise
Favorite Lyrics:
“On a lucky afternoon, /
I pull the blankets to my chin. /
You sing about your little town. /
I fall in love with you again.” (from Clear Water and Concrete)
“Heard you called it quits /
and spelled it out the day we met. /
You said ‘We’re not gonna take this lying down /
We’re not gonna take this lying down.’ /
The evening was clear and brief, /
walked several blocks of empty streets. /
There’s a shadow world hangin’ over our heads. /
There’s a shadow world hangin’ over our heads.
The clever kids are buying drinks, /
and we can’t make much sense of it. /
At the end of the evening it’s time, /
and it’s the end of the evening (it’s time).” (from Cloak of Blue Sky)
“On the evening radio, /
with his hand to god /
he said, ‘I knew it all along.’ /
Though when he and I talked /
he said, ‘Tell me what you think of the world, would you now?’” (from Winston)
Further Thoughts:
Bound Stems existed from 2002-2008, never seemed to get much attention, and sadly put out only two LPs (as well as one EP in their final lineup and a smattering of earlier EPs). Their first album, “Appreciation Night,” has some gems but is uneven--Bobby Gallivan seems unsure what sort of vocal delivery he’s after, and the band as a whole seems unwilling to embrace their hooks.
“A Family Float” exhibits a willful (and welcome) move toward accessibility--the melodies are clearer and stronger and the arrangements somewhat streamlined. Only somewhat, though. There are still unusual time signatures, structurally complicated songs, and impressive musicianship here. Opener “Taking Tips from the Gallery Gang” is representative, moving through three distinct sections: a normal guitar and bass indie number develops into a wall of sound only to give way to a minimal section of synths and kickdrum, but then a crunchier guitar returns to lead the song into a final group singalong. There aren’t really any straightforward verse/chorus constructions to be had here.
What’s remarkable is how catchy the album then manages to be. A chorus is training for its latter instantiations, and rare is the songwriter who makes the first chorus already familiar without resorting to cliché. Rarer still is the songwriter who then resists bringing such a turn back, but labors in the creation of a new one instead. This lends the album a resiliency if not consistency. Given the ambition, it’s easy enough to point to less interesting sections in any song. But these are now tension building, put in service of larger deferral and payoff structures. Not that there aren’t a few changeups thrown in as well: a lovely keyboard loop on “Clear Water and Concrete,” a Shins-esque falsetto “La La La” set on “Cloak of Blue Sky,” and especially the more meditative acoustic guitar and banjo-driven “Winston.”
The album’s defining feature is Gallivan’s delivery, though. He ranges from speak sing to a “Saddlecreek warble” (Spin) to a barroom singalong leader. And he almost never sings in a regular meter, finding a new pattern or rhythm every few lines. Usually such a method is awkward and stilted, but Gallivan’s missteps are few, no doubt because of the careful crafting of the changes and syncing with his backers. All this does, not surprisingly, make the album a classic grower, however, whose charms might not be immediately obvious or accessible in their full force.
The Downside:
Gallivan’s voice isn’t for everyone. He reminds me most directly of Cursive’s Tim Kasher (without the extremes of shouting and hardcore posturing) and of Conor Oberst (without the extremes of emo and fragility posturing)--both far from univerally beloved frontmen--and there are also a few moments where his speak sing mode verges a little too close to something like Dispatch.
Rating: 8
Breadth of Appeal: 6
Consistency of Quality: 7
RIYL: Tapes ‘n Tapes, Broken Social Scene, Cursive
Further Listening: Oxford Collapse, Desaparecidos, Kevin Drew
Place of Origin: Chicago, IL
Instrument/Sounds List: Electric Guitar, Bass, Drums, Keyboards, Vocals, Female Backup Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Banjo, Shaker, Handclaps, Tambourine, Whistling, Typewriter
Mood Tones: Walking through the city to a party of yet unknown quality.
Song Highlights: Taking Tips from the Gallery Gang, Winston, Happens to Us All Otherwise
Favorite Lyrics:
“On a lucky afternoon, /
I pull the blankets to my chin. /
You sing about your little town. /
I fall in love with you again.” (from Clear Water and Concrete)
“Heard you called it quits /
and spelled it out the day we met. /
You said ‘We’re not gonna take this lying down /
We’re not gonna take this lying down.’ /
The evening was clear and brief, /
walked several blocks of empty streets. /
There’s a shadow world hangin’ over our heads. /
There’s a shadow world hangin’ over our heads.
The clever kids are buying drinks, /
and we can’t make much sense of it. /
At the end of the evening it’s time, /
and it’s the end of the evening (it’s time).” (from Cloak of Blue Sky)
“On the evening radio, /
with his hand to god /
he said, ‘I knew it all along.’ /
Though when he and I talked /
he said, ‘Tell me what you think of the world, would you now?’” (from Winston)
Further Thoughts:
Bound Stems existed from 2002-2008, never seemed to get much attention, and sadly put out only two LPs (as well as one EP in their final lineup and a smattering of earlier EPs). Their first album, “Appreciation Night,” has some gems but is uneven--Bobby Gallivan seems unsure what sort of vocal delivery he’s after, and the band as a whole seems unwilling to embrace their hooks.
“A Family Float” exhibits a willful (and welcome) move toward accessibility--the melodies are clearer and stronger and the arrangements somewhat streamlined. Only somewhat, though. There are still unusual time signatures, structurally complicated songs, and impressive musicianship here. Opener “Taking Tips from the Gallery Gang” is representative, moving through three distinct sections: a normal guitar and bass indie number develops into a wall of sound only to give way to a minimal section of synths and kickdrum, but then a crunchier guitar returns to lead the song into a final group singalong. There aren’t really any straightforward verse/chorus constructions to be had here.
What’s remarkable is how catchy the album then manages to be. A chorus is training for its latter instantiations, and rare is the songwriter who makes the first chorus already familiar without resorting to cliché. Rarer still is the songwriter who then resists bringing such a turn back, but labors in the creation of a new one instead. This lends the album a resiliency if not consistency. Given the ambition, it’s easy enough to point to less interesting sections in any song. But these are now tension building, put in service of larger deferral and payoff structures. Not that there aren’t a few changeups thrown in as well: a lovely keyboard loop on “Clear Water and Concrete,” a Shins-esque falsetto “La La La” set on “Cloak of Blue Sky,” and especially the more meditative acoustic guitar and banjo-driven “Winston.”
The album’s defining feature is Gallivan’s delivery, though. He ranges from speak sing to a “Saddlecreek warble” (Spin) to a barroom singalong leader. And he almost never sings in a regular meter, finding a new pattern or rhythm every few lines. Usually such a method is awkward and stilted, but Gallivan’s missteps are few, no doubt because of the careful crafting of the changes and syncing with his backers. All this does, not surprisingly, make the album a classic grower, however, whose charms might not be immediately obvious or accessible in their full force.
The Downside:
Gallivan’s voice isn’t for everyone. He reminds me most directly of Cursive’s Tim Kasher (without the extremes of shouting and hardcore posturing) and of Conor Oberst (without the extremes of emo and fragility posturing)--both far from univerally beloved frontmen--and there are also a few moments where his speak sing mode verges a little too close to something like Dispatch.
1 comment:
Now we're talking.
I'm glad you did F/A and not Appreciation Night, which sounds mostly like growing pains to me. I love the punkish backing vocals on this.
Shake yr. fist, son.
Post a Comment