Here We Go Magic
Here We Go Magic
Western Vinyl
By Mike Randall
There might not have been a more coveted opening slot in indie rock this past spring than the one being filled by Brooklyn’s Here We Go Magic. Trailing current it-band Grizzly Bear around the eastern section of the country most certainly is opening the door to a plethora of new fans, and it’s likely widening their eyes as to what’s possible. The similarities between where Here We Go Magic is right now and Grizzly Bear’s starting point are noteworthy: band formed as a somewhat bedroom project by a visual artist (Edward Droste, a filmmaker; Luke Temple, a painter); an affinity for low-fi analog sound; folk tendencies blurred by rhythmic, melodic and instrumental exploration.
The route Grizzly Bear used to eventually fork into Brian Wilson territory is where Here We Go Magic steps into the art-y, Afro-beat arena of Talking Heads and Rhythm of the Saints/Graceland-era Paul Simon. A groove is defined, usually with a percussive guitar passage or drum rhythm, and it remains the center of the song’s universe as a solar system of voices, keyboards and other instruments revolve around it and carry it to a destination distant from its origin. Temple tackles off-kilter subjects similar to David Byrne, treating a song as much as an art installation as a piece of music, altering his wide-ranged voice to fit the tempo and style of the tune. Right off the bat he adds a nasal overtone to “Only Pieces,” perfectly mimicking Simon and “Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes” as he sings, “What’s the use in dying, if I don’t know when?” South African polyrhythm dances around throughout, as Temple hovers above a keyboard chirping out a Graceland groove while the group chimes in harmoniously behind him. The freak-folk of “Fangela” recalls a more bohemian Simon before he ventured to Cape Town, while the highly rhythmic “Ahab” marks a return to the tribal sound of the album opener. Led by a block-y African guitar riff and background percussion stomps, “Ahab” recalls the Heads’ “I Zimbra,” as Temple’s mellow, soulful vocals swirl around the groove in conjunction with the rest of the band.
For every instance of unintentional Grizzly Bear mirroring Here We Go Magic’s career path is taking, there’s also a negative attribute to the comparison: a perceived lack of focus (something Grizzly Bear has overcome tremendously). For a short record, the band is apt to lose a few listeners during the seemingly out-of-left-field noise breaks that unravel frequently throughout the record. Following the rainy analog hiss and Grizzly-bedroom-folk of “Tunnelvision” (complete with an awesome tornado of backing harmonies from keyboardist Kristina Lieberson and bassist Jennifer Turner), “Ghost List” offers the first appearance of directionless waves of ambient synth/keyboards. There’s much of the same during “Babyohbabyijustcantstanditanymore” (competing with Wilco’s “Nothingsevergonnastandinmywayagain for longest one-word song title), which is unfortunate because onstage and in songs like the Animal Collective-leaning psychedelia of “I Just Want To See You Underwater,” their jams have much more purpose and feel far less lethargic. At their best they use to their advantage chiming guitar arpeggios, percussive thumps and hovering synth lines choruses of vocals, building momentum and picking up steam like a snowball rolling downhill. For some reason that same energy is missing in interludes on record, redeemable only in the fact that they’re so good everywhere else.
Like Grizzly Bear after a single album, there is no question Here We Go Magic can play with the best of them (Temple has previously released well received records under his own name). The only unanswered element is what is their true identity? There might not be a better song written all year than the album-closing “Everything’s Big,” an old-world waltz of saloon piano, string instruments and drums that sounds somewhere between The Band and The Beatles. Still, it sounds out of place here, especially following the pulsating didgeridoo jungle vibe of “Nat’s Alien.” As with Grizzly Bear, all of the tools are in the box: the tunefulness of Temple’s voice, the compelling content of the songs and a band that can nail just about anything. Most of the tunes here would be among the best on a host of other band’s albums, but on a single record it just sounds like a fairly badass mix tape. Good for most, but if they can just pick their path, it’s likely their evolution will lead to a band clamoring to open for them one day.
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