This is something of a backhanded compliment (which is still better than a forehanded insult), but the '89 Cubs are better than you'd expect. A power trio comprised of members of Bright Eyes' backing band, Desaparecidos, and the Good Life, the latest export from "Omaha's burgeoning music scene" (to cop a perplexingly behind-the-curve quote from the band's press bio) hews closest to the fizzy, furious pop-punk of Desaparecidos. Many sophisticated listeners have already clicked the "Back" arrow on their browser at the first mention of pop-punk, the Disneyland of musical genres, but those who remain might be in for a pleasant surprise.
While the '89 Cubs start with the predictable adrenaline boosts and anthemic dynamics of Desaparecidos, early Superchunk, Alkaline Trio, and the Get Up Kids, they leaven these shopworn chord changes with unusual yet intuitively sensible variations, lacing their songs with kinks, hiccups, spaz-outs, and atmospheric passages that constantly refresh their capacity to surprise and engage. I'd call it "post-pop-punk," but I couldn't sleep nights if I were responsible for a new micro-genre in an already overly-specialized musical taxonomy; let's just call it aesthetically ambitious pop-punk with a strong predilection for shoegaze and sweeping, lyrical guitar passages.
The opening track, the mini-epic "Candid Flames" begins with a longish instrumental segment before Ryan Fox's husky, even-keeled vocals commence, deftly shifting between the gliding expressivities of My Bloody Valentine and slashing, chugging riffs which seem to say: You'll get amped and like it. The wavering, cyclic intro of "Sorry Tornado" rolls into a classic 4/4 lead, then into a dense and explosive verse that eventually loops back to the simple melodic figure at its core. "We Won the Party" counterpoises syncopated, scorching rock swathed in dissonant feedback against the sort of succinct melodic packets to be found on a Thermals record.
For fans of pop-punk, or emo-punk, or however you choose to perceive it, There Are Giants in the Earth could be the sleeper hit of the year (well, of last year-- thanks for bearing with us as we sweep the last dying embers from 2004's cooling hearth). Those of you who usually turn up your noses at such stuff (myself admittedly included) might find it to be a humbling, somewhat furtive pleasure-- with enough intellectual grist to justify playing it in public, but not enough to obscure the sheer exuberance at its core, the '89 Cubs temporarily rejuvenate those dormant mental channels that course with blissful, uncomplicated anima, the ones you felt certain you'd outgrown.
