It's no surprise that Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart and Shearwater's Jonathan Meiburg were drawn to each other. They both like pretty songs with abrasive embellishments, and their voices sound startlingly alike. As a bigger fan of Xiu Xiu than Shearwater, I had to listen to this collaborative album by Stewart and Meiburg several times before realizing that the songs where Stewart sounded more like Carey Mercer than usual were actually sung by Meiburg. I might still be getting them mixed up in some places, and that's fine-- the haziness of identity suits both musicians' personae. Unfortunately, ambiguity also pervades at the musical level to less interesting effect.
Stewart is always best as his most extreme-- not just the violence and volume of "I Luv the Valley OH!", but the restraint and grotesque intimacy of "Fabulous Muscles". When he goes all-out, his music can be riveting even when it's disastrous by conventional standards of taste. Meiburg, too, thrives when simmering or combusting more than anywhere in between. This album downplays both of their strengths. The band name comes from a 1971 documentary about reckless shark hunters, but the air of danger and excitement is thin. Stewart turns in a few inspired passages of ominous lyricism, but the music itself is a rickety stage for them.
The opening track is short and boiling, like a warm-up for a big, scary album to come. But then it just keeps warming up. "Grunt Tube" is good, with Stewart's layered voice hovering over the piano for a big Antony-style climax, but many other songs are forgettable and embryonic. "Song for the Greater Jihad" and "Death for Christmas" are interminable, their meandering acoustic arpeggios and organ blears haphazardly splattered with power-tool sounds and noisy percussion. They tread a safe middle road between traditional beauty and experimental ambition. I'd be all for Stewart trying out an album of traditional songs-- he's got a great voice and an under-appreciated knack for catchy tunes-- but this is too equivocal; its conventional gambits are slackened by peripheral noise and draining repetition.
The record was conceived and recorded in a single week, and it leaves you wondering what would have happened if they had done more sketching beforehand. A couple of the best and most polished tracks are tucked away at the end, creating the impression that Stewart and Meiburg were just starting to seriously gel when they called it a wrap. "Gall" has a deep and dreamy feel, with hints of classic soul, and points toward the mannered singer/songwriter-style work this could have been. "Rendering the Juggalos", a glorious noise-pop topiary, raises another compelling "What if?" It's intriguing enough to warrant hope for a second record, but this complacent first try-- neither too pretty nor too ugly, too conventional nor too experimental-- feels inessential for all but the most sympathetic Xiu Xiu and Shearwater fans.
