Y'know, most self-released albums don't even make it this far. Earlier this year, Brooklyn foursome Takka Takka started offering a free EP for download over the internet; by the end of September, dudes were playing for thousands at Central Park in support of full-length debut We Feel Safer at Night, opening for fellow unsigned word-of-blog heroes Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. The bands once shared a member, and both acts exemplify the way DIY musicians are using the web to reach their audiences. Unfortunately, a business model isn't an aesthetic, as anyone who ever tried to explain "indie rock" to a non-listener knows.
We Feel Safer at Night, true to its title, is a safe, practically suburban NYC indie record for the bum-free, post-Giuliani era. Singer/guitarist Gabe Levine sing/speaks like a nice brah from Friends doing his best Lou Reed deadpan, backed by lulling Phoenix-meets-Counting Crows acoustic rock (sorry, not quite the Rembrandts). "She Works in Banking" uses a slick bassline and tingling soft-rock guitar suited for Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams", while "Joshua and the Professor" does choked-up goofball piano balladry in the earnest Ben Folds vein (Reinhold Messner, by the synths). But can they stand the sound of the Velvet Underground?
Takka Takka also stick to what's safest and most widely palatable when it comes to lyrics. Like recent John Mayer single "Waiting on the World to Change", harmonica-laden "Enough" addresses the war in Iraq from a smug, uncontroversial distance: "The protest kids are protestin'/ But they forget that the movement's been dead for years." The topic gets a more direct treatment on "Living Out of Trouble", this album's "Details of the War" for its Dylan-drenched slo-mo, but the track never quite departs the coziness of cliché; Levine suggests we can't hear the gunshots because our TVs are on too loud. Yeah, dudes, I've kinda had enough of the blame-American-Idol-first crowd.
It's tough to actively dislike these guys, though, when even they seem to realize how lucky they are. With Kinks la-la-las and handclaps, "They Built You Up Too Fast" could be a comment on the phenomenon of hype itself. "I'll be sure not to say your name at all," Levine pledges over more acoustic guitars, as if safeguarding a beloved mp3 from the cred-besmirching white-earbud masses. It's the type of song bands could play in sports bars or nightclubs anywhere in the country. No one can say for certain whether Takka Takka's self-released debut would've even made it to New York if the band didn't already call the city home, along with most of their buzzed-about peers who aren't from Austin or Los Angeles. I thought the democratization of music on the internet was supposed to increase geographical diversity. Apparently, we're all from the outer boroughs.
