Having just come back from a really nice four-day vacation, I can pretty safely say that the boys in Hood are on to something with the title of this EP. By the end of my vacation, I was seriously looking forward to going home-- to the fluffy pillows, the hundred channels of cable television, and a bathroom that's only slightly vermin-infested. But no sooner had I set foot in the front door than I began to slink back into that all-too-familiar rut that only home can provide. I immediately settled into the firmly established ass-groove in my desk chair, received the hundred or so e-mail messages that were waiting for me. And then I stubbed my fucking toe.
Fortunately, I was also coming home to my stereo. If I was going to be miserable, at least I was fully equipped to provide an adequate soundtrack for low-level depression and aching digit. And while Home is Where it Hurts could sadly not provide decent accompaniment for the throbbing toe pain, it makes a rather pleasant companion for a transition from care-free vacation days to the saddening realization that I'm going to be in the same place for a long, long time.
Home is Where It Hurts, the most recent entry into the band's massive canon of work-- they've issued 4 full-lengths, 11 singles, 4 split singles, 26 compilation tracks and 4 remix records over the course of the past 10 years-- is 25 minutes of deliberate, meditative rock, served up with flourishes of piano, strings, and skittering drum machine beats. At the heart of its best moments is the pairing of straightforward, slow-to-mid-tempo songs with frenetic, glitchy percussion. This combination is the first thing heard on Home is Where It Hurts, and largely defines the sound of the record. The EP's title track begins by pairing hyper pre-programmed kicks and snares with plucked acoustic guitar. As layers of guitars, drums, and muttered vocals build, the track develops into a lovely rock song, though the interplay of the electronic percussion with the organic instruments gradually loses steam.
A better example of Hood's incorporation of crazed drum machines amidst melancholy pop strains would be "The World Touches Too Hard," the EP's standout. A hissing electrobeat permeates layers of strings, reverb-tinged guitars, and claustrophobic vocals. The piercing blasts of treble amidst a sea of mid-range really brings the track to life, elevating it above the pretty but occasionally dull nature of the rest of the record.
Indeed, many of the strengths and weaknesses of Home is Where It Hurts seem to come simply with the type of music Hood plays. The songs here develop quite deliberately, but never really deviate from the path that they carves out for themselves at the outset. Hood may not possess the fragile beauty of their better contemporaries, but the music is sonically dense enough to keep you interested. In other words, it's nice accompaniment for relaxing or applying ice to a swollen toe, but you probably won't be taking it on any road trips.
