Rock music developed as an art form with vocals, so when people hear guitar, bass, and drums in unison now, they expect to hear vocals, too. That's a reasonable expectation. The human voice is the oldest musical instrument, and the one that resonates most frequently with people. Instrumental rock attempts to supply that resonance with, well, instruments. This is a difficult task, given that no musical instrument is as expressive as the human voice.
Pelican have worked with these problems for most of this decade. Early efforts, a self-titled EP and the Australasia full-length, got by on power and a little atmosphere. At that time, the band sounded like a more expansive, drone-oriented Neurosis. Its riffs were dark, and its tones were thick. In that style of rock/metal, vocals are often screamed or growled, adding textural abrasion instead of functioning as a lyrical instrument. Thus, Pelican's lack of vocals wasn't noticeable, since their guitars more than compensated.
On 2005's March Into the Sea EP and The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw full-length, Pelican changed direction. They added light and shade, stretched compositions into multi-part opuses, and experimented with major keys and acoustic guitars. No longer could the band depend on sheer volume to replace vocals. Still, vocals weren't necessary. Once a song exceeds eight minutes in length, listeners' traditional expectations fall away.
Pelican's current conundrum began with 2007's City of Echoes. The band scaled back its songs to more conventional lengths but didn't change much otherwise, making them feel like strings of sometimes-cool riffs. But the group shored up its songwriting with the Pink Mammoth and Ephemeral EPs, and now the songs on What We All Come to Need flow smoothly. Their riffs work with each other instead of next to each other. Drummer Larry Herweg, once maligned for playing metal like an indie rock drummer, has tightened up his act, not only keeping steady time but also providing a pleasing propulsion. Pelican no longer sound like they're grappling with their identity.
However, the band is almost too comfortable with its vocal-less shtick. Now it's writing efficient, fat-free five- to seven-minute songs that, with a few edits, could end up on radio. And therein lies the problem: These songs feel like conventional rock songs, with short intros and verse-like sections. With moderate distortion and loping tempos, they sound like some long-lost Pearl Jam demos, owing much to 1990s alternative rock. Divest the Smashing Pumpkins or Hum of their singers, give the bands room to jam, and this album might have ensued. Without vocals, it feels slightly empty. The final track underscores this, as a guest singer lends a ghostly air to an Alice in Chains-esque dirge that begs for radio play. It turns out what we all come to need is vocals.
