How is that terrible musicians are able to write incredible songs? And why can't technically competent musicians write songs as well as they can play their instruments? There are bands like The Kinks who-- let's face it-- were far from the most technically adept in their field, yet have somehow left behind some of the most timelessly enjoyable and imminently relevant rock music artifacts. Then there's a guy like Yngwie Malmsteen, whose technical proficiency exceeds that of every rock musician ever to exist-- maybe combined. And how many Alcatrazz records do you own?
All too often, it seems technically proficient artists are their own worst enemies. Titillated by their own prowess, they compose music that showcases their chops but masks their humanity. It's a schtick that impresses but rarely inspires. There is a point, though, when some mathematically complex set of chords stops being impressed with itself and becomes a truly inspiring song, when a bushel of mind-numbing guitar riffs transcends its sonic masturbation and reaches an emotionally satisfying stratosphere. No one knows exactly where that point is, but we know when it's reached, and more importantly, we feel it when it's crossed.
Pretty Girls Make Graves' latest, The New Romance, crosses that point. The album exists in that scarcely inhabited rock-and-roll world where technical prowess coexists peacefully with clear and simple songcraft, the former never forgoing the latter. Contrasting with Good Health's cut-to-the-chase opener "Speakers Push the Air", "Something Bigger, Something Brighter" opens deliberately and confidently. Nick DeWitt taps away at his snare rim, haunting its vague militancy with the cannon-like blast of his bass drum. Twin guitars trade high-strung lilts, panning from left to right with each call and response. For the sake of its title, the heretofore dark and subtle song does deliver something bigger and brighter: After an ominous dynamic increase, the band piles layers upon layers of beautiful, serpentine riffs. For all its tonal and rhythmic complexity, The New Romance breathes with healthy lungs and a muscular diaphragm.
"The Grandmother Wolf" follows, a relentless parade of charged guitar lines that climax when DeWitt's drums go out with a whimper and vocalist Andrea Zollo sings an utterly breathtaking melody over sparse guitar punches. "Mr. Club" is a short transitional organ-and-drum piece that takes on immense significance with the entrance of a dark piano line that hints vaguely at what comes next. And what does come next is quite possibly the best rock song I've heard this year: "All Medicated Geniuses" is the pinnacle of Pretty Girls Make Graves' technical abilities and songwriting. Built upon a very subtle ring structure, each segment quadruples the intensity of the one before it. The guitars just scream here, trading lines back and forth across the pan. DeWitt proves well beyond doubt that he's one of indie rock's most talented drummers, and certainly one of only a handful these days who plays his kit as an instrument and not merely as a timepiece.
"Blue Lights" adopts a post-rock approach, the band infusing more immediacy as the song builds to its climax. While it would be unfair to expect the lyrical charm of Dan Bejar or the clever wordplay of Colin Meloy from a band more interested in the aesthetics of rock than those of lyrics, it should be noted that "Blue Lights" sports unfortunately atrocious lyrics. Fortunately, "Chemical Chemical" quickly redeems the misstep, rivaling "All Medicated Geniuses" in intensity and structure, and maintaining the latter's visceral pull (if, perhaps, with less tonal depth). "Holy Names" is the closest of the album's songs that come to being classified a ballad. But while slower in tempo, there's certainly no lapse in intensity. The song builds for one part to a short-lived guitar scream reminiscent of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Nic Zinner, and boasts one of album's most stunning moments. Soon after, the band jumps into the album's title track, prominently featuring a few fantastic organ lines and a killer B-part break, replete with Zollo's catchy vocal hook.
The New Romance is immediately impressive and gratifying, each subsequent listen unearthing an increasing number of underlying subtleties. Each of Pretty Girls Make Graves' members have contributed 110% here, and their ambitious zeal, coupled with their remarkable technical depth, has made for a utterly breathtaking full-length. One could almost analyze The New Romance's many layers to the death, if the desire to air-guitar wasn't so damn distracting.
