Ask Diane Warren or Brian Wilson: Every good love song needs to have a little bit of grandeur. The most fitting way to musically simulate the irrationalities and delirious heart flutters of a good romance is by pouring on the dramatics, sparing no expense to make the most syrupy, majestic, overwrought arrangement possible. With his membership in Stars, Torquil Campbell has shown a deep understanding of this unwritten rule, building valentine anthems with bandmate Amy Millan that seem tailor-made for romantic comedy trailer soundtracks. Of course, without access to symphony orchestras or gold-throated divas, Stars must make do with mere guitars and synthesizers, but these embellishments are still deployed perfectly to stretch their characters' emotions to widescreen ratio.
Memphis, Campbell's moonlight band with collaborator Chris Dumont, indulges itself in a wider variety of topics, choosing to explore matters beyond those of the heart. Not entirely, of course; nobody with a bedroom-whisper voice like Campbell's can travel too far away from relationship songs. But none of the songs on A Little Place in the Wilderness-- be it a ghost story, a drinking song, or a fallback to the reliable old love letter-- reach the more fanciful flights of late-period Stars.
Like most indie pop, A Little Place in the Wilderness is unabashedly bookish: The first word on the album is "aeroplane," and a full 20% of the 10 songs assume the format of spoken-word prose over music. But paradoxically, these unabashedly literary aspirations are coupled with less extravagant arrangements than Campbell is accustomed. Hardly lo-fi or bedroom-crafted by anybody's standards, Memphis employ considerably less synth theatrics than Stars, which makes A Little Place sound leaner despite the brass, strings, and harmonies a-plenty.
When their sound clicks, Memphis turn in A-list, proper chamber-pop, like the jazzy woodwind tribute to mutual binge drinking "Incredibly Drunk on Whiskey" or the glazed jangle of "I'll Do Whatever You Want", which accurately traps the sound of decadent 80s soft pop with its icy, artificial harmonies. Meanwhile, "In the Cinema Alone" will make a Memphis fan out of your Death Cab-loving little sister, as Campbell cribs a melody from Ben Gibbard rather than vice versa, for once.
Unfortunately, swapping synth- for chamber- as the pop-prefix of choice leaves most of A Little Place disappointingly slight, with songs such as "I Dreamed We Fell Apart" and "The Night Watchman" beginning and ending the album with forgettable sighs. Only "In the Highest Room" promises a Stars-like emotional peak, but ends up running in place as background to a barely audible monologue, though it's an improvement on the album's other narrative ("A Ghost Story") which employs vocal effects that are appropriately creepy but ultimately irritating.
Perhaps A Little Place in the Wilderness just isn't enough of a departure from Torquil Campbell's day job; as guilty as I feel about constantly invoking his other band's name, Memphis runs so close to Stars' path, the album can't help but feel inferior by proximity. While the marginal shifts in subject matter and instrumental tone are worthy exercises, ultimately Memphis' sound is too polite, too measured, for a voice as heartstruck as Campbell's, perfect for conveying feelings that are anything but calculated. Perhaps that's the pigeonhole curse of the love-songwriter; once you've mastered the justifiably overblown sound of romance, any other subject is too mundane.
