If you wonder why Explosions in the Sky can be so emotionally deadpan, hear their newly reissued debut, How Strange, Innocence. It makes everything the band has done since look like scar tissue.
Nowadays no one accuses the Texas post-rockers of vulnerability; the quartet keeps it serious as a heart attack, showing one of the best poker faces in rock. Even 2003's The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place-- a putatively optimistic response to the dour minor-key mega-wattage of its predecessor, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die-- was a strikingly humorless affair. Music this grave and resolute risks becoming a parody of itself, but the band have stood ground as if steeled for the Blitz, delivering cavernous, sure-footed instrumentals without a crumb of irony. So if you've come to depend on Royal Guard stoicism from these guys, brace yourself: How Strange, Innocence is an emotionally effluent record, all knit brows and crestfallen countenances.
Earth was white to Truth's foreboding gray, the records' moods distinct like vinegar in oil. How Strange, Innocence is a more personal affair, deep cogitative blues mingling with the bleaker registers. Thank the production: Dry and brittle, the sound betrays all EITS indicators, from the wontedly windy titles ("Remember Me as a Time of Day", "Glittering Blackness") to the diarrhetic runtimes. Less reverb, you'd think, less color. But Explosions' last two albums have been so bloated that the relative thinness here actually bursts open the spectrum, finding intimacy.
How Strange mostly does without excessive distortion and dynamic see-sawing-- no explosions, only minor flares. But even working within a compressed range, the band conjures up some lightning. "Magic Hours" is eight-plus minutes for a reason: The sluggish opening section needs time to unravel if the steam-building turnabout is to have any clout. And however predictable the song's binary, quiet-crazy structure, Explosions handles both poles beautifully, moving from papery strumming and cool bass dewdrops to rushing, squall-slathered confusion. "Snow and Lights" cuts to the chase quicker but belabors. Starting at a climax and retreating from there, a logy middle section evaporates into a yawning abyss exactly five minutes wide. The composition's fine, all the component parts pulling weight, and the relative lack of 'verb is a good move-- any inflation would muzzle the bite.
Even lacking the heavy artillery, these are no cupcakes. "Glittering Blackness" dirges with the best of Truth, kicking quarter notes so thick, who needs syncopation? "Remember Me as a Time of Day" is very proud of its acoustic guitars, whose cascading lulls presage the band's droopy meditations on the Friday Night Lights soundtrack. But whereas that foray into film scoring (the band's most recent release) moved beyond dispassionate destruction into lame docility, How Strange, Innocence does gentle from a whole different bent-- one that doesn't back down from frailty and uncertainty, and spins something way more vibrant as a result.
