Since arriving during the initial rush of chillwave in 2008, Small Black never had a problem fitting in with whatever’s been happening in indie rock at any moment-- meaning their music threatens to blend in far more than stand out. Grotty, homemade glo-fi singles such as “Despicable Dogs” turned a few ears in their native Brooklyn, but by the time Small Black cleaned up for their 2010 Jagjaguwar debut New Chain, they came off like a regular ol’ synth-pop act with good timing as opposed to an obsessive tinkerer like Toro Y Moi or Neon Indian. The less said about their hip-hop mixtape, the better-- just know that they were hardly the only dudes trying to make cloud-rap beats in 2011. And now with indie getting all grown and sexy, they’ve followed suit on Limits of Desire, a record whose production puts their music in sharper relief, but does so with an R&B slickness that once again puts Small Black right in the center of the zeitgeist rather than above or outside of it.
Lead single and opener “Free at Dawn” at least shows us they made the right call. It’s the most exemplary of how their hi-fi sound-- described by frontman Josh Kolenick as a “million dollar record on a very low budget”-- can prove complementary to the underlying elements of their songwriting. Kolenik’s breathy vocals handle melodies that take long, broad turns, the bass pulses lightly and everything that contributes to the soft, gently ascendant arc-- a sustained guitar riff, light harmonic kisses, lush reverb-- knows not to disturb this groove. Though Kolenik describes what it might feel like to be “reckless as rain,” “Free at Dawn” is more of a controlled, physical sensation, of a tall, cold one being swept against a sweaty brow.
It’s a nice feeling, one that Small Black can occasionally retrigger throughout Limits of Desire. But Small Black push through 45 minutes of this without generating the necessary heat to keep things interesting. As a vocalist, Kolenik remains more functional than expressive, his range limited in terms of both emotion and melody. In isolation, any of the 10 songs on Limits of Desire are a soothing balm; in sequential order, they’re distinguishable only by increment: “Canoe” is the one with the cooed, falsetto hook rather than the heavily sighed one (“No Stranger”), “Shook Loves” may or may not be inspired by Mobb Deep, and closer “Outskirts” is six minutes of aloe-infused synth-pop ambience instead of four.
Considering chillwave artists were never been shy about their R&B influences and sought to evoke a sensuality that was foreign to most guitar-based music at the time, Small Black is capable of making a smooth transition to the present. But unlike the nu-makeout music of Vondelpark or Rhye, Limits of Desire lacks crisp definition and spark, instead relying on the same old smeary tactics of reverb, gloss, and languor; thanks to the frictionless production, you can feel the high thread count of the sheets, but never another person.
A generous reading might suggest that’s the entire point. Judging from its title and the garish, meaningful symbolism of its cover art, Limits of Desire is meant to be a conceptual piece about communication breakdowns and failures of the flesh. But as much as Kolenik describes these chasms, he’s more wont to contribute to them. Throughout, he shows a weakness for emo softserve (“Through the thick and lovely smoke/ Full of guts but so shy/ Tell me what you want, she says”), though more often those sentiments are nudged uncomfortably towards poetry, but just end up not being enough of either (“She was the end of ruins/ A full rush of air”). It’s apt, as musically and lyrically, Limits of Desire plays on the double meaning of “sweet nothings”; you get the feeling that Small Black do want to break free of their past, but they’re not always convincing at showing how badly they want it.
