Capgras' Syndrome describes the condition when a person has a delusional feeling that a close friend or family member has been replaced by a look-alike imposter. Patients have no problem identifying other acquaintances, but the "imposter" can drive them to dementia. Coincidentally, Tangiers administers a similar mindfuck. I know, I know, indie has basically engulfed the garage-rock sub-genre since 2002, but that's not assuaging my concerns that The Family Myth's the Strokes or Walkmen in Tangiers-face. For some reason, Albert Hammond, Jr. can rip Wire and Television riffs helter-skelter, but as soon as Tangiers encroaches on anything pre-1980, whistles blow. Unfair, yes, but that's just the biz.
To compensate, Tangiers plays up their "underdog" status to a T, which is fine, except the diamond can only hide in the rough for so long. So, in a deft move, the whittled-down songwriting duo of frontman Josh Reichmann and singer/bassist James Sayce have stopped fumbling over tinny Strokes production and instead deliver the raw mod album the Mooney Suzuki never had the sobriety to create. Thus, the underdog becomes alpha wolf as Reichmann and Sayce display an newly discovered authority over their songs.
Opener "Crack Valley" would've been shackled by half-assed Clash guitars and boombox-quality drum tracks on 2004's Never Bring You Pleasure. Fortunately, the band checks their DIY tendencies at the door, bringing mostly melody and unpredictable tempos to the party. Not to malign their previous catalog, which certainly trumps most of today's post-punk regurgitates, but Family Myth proves fewer studio tricks lead to tighter songwriting. All soulful melodies and tender keyboards, "That Russian Bastard" woos the ear enough to excuse the Casablancas mimicry and curiously anti-Russo sentiments. Likewise, "A Winter's War" conjures a cuddly Smiths sans sad bastardy and nasal blockage.
However, Tangiers hasn't troubleshot all their stylistic errors, namely the anachronistic psych musk creeping through Family Myth. One-dimensional tracks "The Coast Guard" and "I Suggest a Crypt" sound like the Coral pranking Tangiers, swapping 70s energy with lysergic homogeny. Nevertheless, Tangiers make a good first impression on their Frenchkiss debut, settling comfortably into their status as Canada's ripple-- not direct answer-- to the U.S. garage boom. Props to 'em, but even more power to the hordes of indie taxonomists who can stop fretting over which buzz bin to file the band into.
