The 2007 television writer's strike was often portrayed in the national media as a pissing match between well-compensated TV scribes and studio fat cats, but if you lived in L.A. during that time, you'd see how its economic fallout fucked over the little guys-- obscenely underpaid talent assistants kicked to the curb right before the holidays, waiters who could no longer make ends meet once the business lunches stopped bringing in fat tips... bands like As Tall As Lions, whose pockets get hurt any time a show like "October Road" gets 86'd. It was around that time when I became familiar with the Long Island band's major-label debut, a record that wasn't shy about positioning itself in that easily licensed Jeff Buckley-Snow Patrol continuum-- as far as sudsy melodrama goes, it was intermittently enjoyable, but it also had a kind of Johnny-come-lately vibe.
To their credit, lead singer Dan Nigro tones down the cheap seats act to a good extent on You Can't Take It With You, and As Tall As Lions are trying to incorporate relatively artier influences. But it's ambitious in the way memorizing all the world capitals is: It's the kind of busybody accrual that you really never have to make good on. It's where the eight-minute "epic" is called "Duermete" instead of "Fall Asleep" despite having not one word of Spanish in its lyrics.
Indeed, there are plenty of points where As Tall As Lions identify what made other albums great, and you can pick out where they're seeking inspiration. "Circles" comes off like a Cliffs Notes In Rainbows, jumbling the beat fake-outs of "15 Step", a winding acoustic motif reminiscent of "Jigsaw Falling Into Place", and the computerized percussion of "Videotape". Predictably, it's a complete fucking mess of forced syncopation and aimless melody which only rights itself when ATAL settles into a straightforward 4/4 chorus that leads up to a baldfaced attempt at Jonny Greenwood's dissonant solos. "Sixes & Sevens" barges in ass-first with choral vocals and a time signature too complex for its acoustic strumming. The title track works in slightly Oriental accents to its harps and keys before climaxing in a chorus whose unctuous sheen might perk the ears of Mutt Lange's attorneys. You know these guys have been listening to New Orleans blues because the rank gumbo of "We's Been Waitin'" uses one of those telephone-box vocal effects. A quarter of "Duermete" is taken up by droning ambiance. Nearly everything else has some sort of backmasking effect, unorthodox percussion, and enough guitar processing effects to rival a Fennesz record-- it's overstuffed with pretty much everything except memorable hooks.
As overblown as You Can't Take It With You is musically, Nigro's not one to be upstaged by guitar pedals. Throughout, he associates falsetto with passion and cliché for truth-- "Sixes and Sevens" works in "I've been hung out to dry" and "wake me when its over"; what might be an otherwise exhilarating, cracking-whip rhythmic workout ("In Case Of Rapture") is actually bested in terms of Cold War Kids-aspiring uplift cliché-- "It's better to die on your feet than live down on your knees." It's not their fault that Passion Pit already wrote a better song with the same title about the same thing, but if whoever's dying to the sounds of "Sleepyhead" pulls through, I hope they tell Izzie and McSteamy that life's too short for lyrics like "the rhythm of your heart beeps loud until it stops and robs the room of sound."
I can't front: I actually like You Can't Take It With You more than I probably should if only because it's got such a narrow revivalist charm. It's reminiscent of that very specific span of time between 1997 and 1999 when the likes of Better Than Ezra, Days of the New, Our Lady Peace, and Live had absolutely no idea how to cope in the post-OK Computer world and stuffed their also-ran post-grunge with drum machines and talked mad shit about the "electronica" influence on their new futuristic concept album. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I bought this thing at my college bookstore at a reduced New Artist price on the strength of a couple of three-and-a-half-star reviews praising its "eclecticism," only to later sell it for beer money. But you can't really blame As Tall As Lions for going overboard on the studio wizardry: There really isn't too much here that sounds like the work of a couple guys jamming out in a room, but then again I doubt this would be much better if it did. Hell, cue the strings.
