Nada Surf are always the indie-rock grown-ups in the room—the band who know exactly who they are and what they’re doing. Their excellent new Moon Mirror has all the tropes that go into a Nada Surf album: exquisite guitar chimes polished until they gleam, melodies that kick in and stick, songcraft in the finest Big Star/Kinks/Spoon tradition. Matthew Caws sings his impeccably witty tunes about being in love (with a person, with a song, with a feeling) and how it changes over time, without ever settling for the trite line or the trite riff.
But Moon Mirror is Nada Surf’s most musically and emotionally passionate album in years, on the level of gems like Let Go, This Weight Is A Gift, and The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy. A couple decades ago, they defined their early sound with “Blonde on Blonde,” a joyfully lazy guitar meditation on wandering the streets of New York in the rain listening to Bob Dylan. These days, they define their current sound — essentially the same one — with the fantastic “Open Seas,” full of crunch guitar and Wurlitzer burbles. All that changes is the soundtrack, since Caws now sings about having messier emotional epiphanies to “Wichita Lineman”: “The phone on my chest plays Jimmy Webb / And I feel myself out on the line/Wanting you for all time.”
Nada Surf were a hit straight out of the box with their Nineties debut High/Low — produced by Ric Ocasek, which was a federal law at the time. They even became MTV Buzz Bin sensations for a few weeks with the high-school satire “Popular.” (Their tourmates and proteges in Pom Pom Club did a brilliant scene-for-scene remake of a video a couple years ago, with a cameo from Caws.)
When the superb follow-up The Proximity Effect sank like a stone, everybody assumed that was the end of their story. But their 2003 triumph Let Go was the one that became a rock touchstone, with evergreens like “Blizzard of ’77” and “The Way You Wear Your Head.” Let Go has become so beloved over the years that it inspired a wonderful tribute album on its 15th anniversary, Standing at the Gates, with its songs covered by the likes of Aimee Mann, Manchester Orchestra, and Charly Bliss.
These days Nada Surf stand as a rarity among 21st-century guitar bands — a long string of top-quality albums, thriving on a grass-roots level, no hits, no problem. Their 2020 pandemic album Never Not Together got lost in the shuffle (whose pandemic album didn’t?) so they picked a perfect time to aim so high with Moon Mirror, with open-hearted songs about the tiny day-to-day struggles that go into the long, tough work of adulthood.
As always, it’s the core trio of Caws, bassist Daniel Lorca, and drummer Ira Elliott, joined by longtime comrade Louie Lino, who contributes the bittersweet elegy for absent friends, “Losing.” “The One You Want” is a fast-paced tale of grown-up love, full of dramatic strings and drumrolls. Caws sings about trying to keep all eyes on the prize of romantic bliss — “The wind is the right hand, the piano’s a tree, I wanna hear that for eternity” — while looking to rise above temporary conflicts. (“I don’t wanna lose you but I don’t wanna win” — that’s a damn good line.)
They go from tightly crafted verse/chorus/verse vignettes to the expansively spacey folk-rock vistas of “Moon Mirror,” “Open Seas,” and “X Is You.”“In Front of Me Now” is a lament about multi-tasking away your attention span while missing out on your life as it happens. “I used to be counting when I was sharing,” Caws admits. “I used to blanking when I was staring/I used to be rolling when I was parking / I used to be raining when I was sparking.”
“New Propeller” is a catchy yet blunt reflection on time’s winged chariot and mortality, without giving in to doom or gloom. Amid the driving new wave organ of “Intel and Dreams” is a brother recalling his older sister (“We were a team/And we shared intel and dreams”) wondering why that kind of mutual trust is so elusive in his adult relationships. Nada Surf sign off with the haunting lullaby “Floater,” ending the album on an uneasy note. But Moon Mirror is a sterling tribute to the kind of inspiration that endures and deepens over the long haul.
