Perhaps because of sheer journalistic inertia, or because it's a description of few words and eerie (but superficial) accuracy, Jason Anderson's work is often described as sounding "like Guided by Voices." And yes, for what it's worth, Anderson sounds a little like a sober version of the Captain; Wolf Colonel also tends to cop the lo-res aesthetic of early GBV when they don't have any better ideas (which is often). Unfortunately, they both get panned for not sounding as earthshaking as one of the greatest independent rock acts of all time. It's enough to reduce more beneficent, egalitarian folks to tears.
Because, you know, "It's all just indie rock!" as Anderson yelps with a despicably self-referential wink on "Jet Ski Accidents." Apparently, that's supposed to excuse an album's worth of knowingly awkward, slightly offbeat chord progressions, lyrics that practically wet their pants to be described as "quirky", and some of the grainiest bedroom recording that money can't buy. Screw holding Something/Everything up to the GBV measuring stick-- it can barely justify its own tired sound. The market on this brand of noise was cornered by its giants years ago, and to break in, it's going to take something truly special. Without staggering invention, craftsmanship, or anything particularly unique to it at all, Something/Everything is a lot more like a simpleminded retrospective of the "indie sound" and a lot less like an album to jockey for a position with dinner and a movie (and maybe an invitation back to your place).
It isn't like this is an aural gum scraping; it's more of a painful duty, and sometimes it's not even that painful. Quality songwriting doesn't necessarily need to break any molds, and Something/Everything can occasionally make its presence felt with even-handed simplicity, as on "Astronaut, Astronaut" or the delightful, shaky cacophony of "Break the News". The synthetic, beat-driven "Citizen's Arrest" bears mention, simply because in context, it sounds genuine and original (the rhythms provoke some comparison to Radiohead's "Idioteque", but even on a bad day, that's a good thing). In fact, the sugary drone of "Citizen's Arrest" is one of the album's finest moments, and there even are some close runners-up.
However, once (and only once) does Wolf Colonel really transcend the limitations of this sound, and that "once" comes with "The Sophomore". As one sterling counterpoint to refute anyone who claims there's no possibility of expanding lo-fidelity sound, "The Sophomore" makes a joke of most everything Wolf Colonel has done to date. It positively thunders from the speakers, rising to a towering, epic crescendo of hissing guitar and soaring choruses. It brilliantly illustrates the simultaneous intimacy and fuzzy grandeur that made this sound so classic. Why is the rest of Something/Everything content to remain average with this kind of potential going largely unrealized?
The fruits of this stale guitar/drums formula are dubious, as is Anderson's forced lyrical quaintness and his best attempt at Pollard's raspy delivery. Yet, although it houses some enjoyable moments and one brush with greatness, the majority of Something/Everything is simply decent, unremarkable music coupled with god-awful lyrics. To wit: "The moon was up there/ Just hangin' in the sky/ Floating pretty high/ No one quite knows why/ I let out a sigh." Me too, Jason. Me too.
