Almost exactly six years ago, during my first trip to the Pacific Northwest, I found myself sitting with a few friends at a wooden picnic table somewhere in Washington. It was Saturday, but kids weren't playing on the nearby field, and no adults strolled by. The uniform gray concrete at our feet was a mirror to the sky. We were damp and heavy, buoys suspended in the thick cold fog. I picked at the peeling green paint on the sodden table; thick splinters of wood came up instead. I'd never been in that town before, but it seemed eerily familiar. "What's this place called again?" I asked. A friend replied, "Aberdeen." Where had I heard that? The table slowly deteriorated before me. I'd created a miniature canyon in its surface before realizing I was in Kurt Cobain's hometown. So this is why he killed himself...
After grunge hit the mainstream, there was so much discussion of the Pacific Northwest's supposed depression-inducing effects on local music that the area's gloomy conditions became synonymous with the music scene. But when a bunch of bands with similar sounds all come from a particular area, I don't buy that it has anything to do with the temperature and humidity. Sure, the more recent bands to emerge from the region (Built to Spill, Elliott Smith, Modest Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie, etc.) share some similarities with the climate, but had I never heard of, say, Quasi, and someone played them for me, asking where I thought they hailed from, I wouldn't have known. And if I had, it'd have been based on a resemblance to other artists from the area, not the 7-day forecast.
But ah! An exception. 764-HERO is the perfect soundtrack for their homeland. Maybe the band knew this when they formed, and named themselves after the Washington state hotline to report carpool lane violators to firmly establish their geographic origins. But they were different back in those days-- just a two-piece with drums, a guitar and vocals on their 1996 debut, Salt Sinks and Sugar Floats. In 1998, they picked up Red Stars Theory bassist James Bertram and joined Built to Spill producer Phil Ek in the studio to record the more varied, but occasionally aimless, Get Here and Stay. Now, on their third full-length, Weekends of Sound, the band showcases their strengths and improves upon their weaknesses, making it their most accomplished work to date.
Vocalist/guitarist John Atkins still sings as if fatigued by emotion, and the band's sound isn't remarkably different, but various touches make them sound richer than ever. The crisp production also remains, thus proving to those still unsure that Phil Ek is one of indie rock's best. On "Out like a Light," Atkins is backed during the chorus by Bertram's cascading vocals, making the lines, "It's your turn to listen/ Yeah, you will," sound not just casually antagonistic, but cathartic, too. Atkins' distant howl on "Leslie" and the accompanying soft, reverberating guitar strums raise the song from a potentially forgettable lull to an otherworldly drift.
764-HERO's critics often label them as a moodier, lazier Built to Spill, and that seemed somewhat accurate on Get Here and Stay. But on Weekends of Sound, the band aspires to new heights, best illustrated by their nine-minute epic, "Left Hanging." The track begins with quiet chimes and casual note picking, and slowly builds until a rising guitar takes over for a chorus that makes room for both poppy handclaps and Atkins' distorted larynx-thrashing.
Even Atkins' often maudlin lyrics have been refined. "Summer takes your hand/ 'This part's scary,'" he sings sarcastically on the title track. He retains the sincere lyrics that endeared him to many fans, but he no longer sounds helpless or despondent, as exemplified by the song's next lyric: "We're so tired of weekends of sound/ And you will sit down, shut up and keep it honest." And for those who crave it, a couple of songs here-- "You Were the Long Way Home" and "Something Else"-- are standard, sentimental 764-HERO, with Atkins singing on the latter, "October came too soon/ And I'm left wondering why."
That the band has improved, and that they still fit their home climate, is apparent from the very first track, "Terrified of Flight." The song opens with a drumbeat that pistons back and forth, a high hat like rushing water, and a submerged, beguiling bassline. "Night keeps going/ We keep standing still," sings John Atkins in tonal alignment with his guitar. Soon thereafter, he narrates, "Minutes later, we don't hear a sound.../ We don't notice all the passing time/ We were in the sight/ Terrified of flight." This music is Washington as dark sets in: the fog dampening all sound, and melancholia seeping into our every pore.
