I love the scene. By "the scene," I mean music, and the people who love it. Of course, one overarching scene doesn't really exist-- more correctly, there are hundreds of little scenes, each of which contributes its own part to a greater whole. The most common scene demarcation, for obvious reasons, is geography. A bunch of bands and their fans in one city become a scene over time, and in the right hands, it nurtures creativity and collaboration.
Of course, when you've got several regional scenes, rivalries begin to creep in over time. These rivalries are usually nothing more than the imagined creations of a few fans or journalists, but on occasion, they spread to the business or (rarely) to the musicians themselves. Apparently, the rivalry between the New York and Chicago scenes has become real enough that New York's Self-Starter Foundation makes a big deal over the fact that the Detachment Kit are a "rare good band from Chicago" on their website, regarding the band's signing.
Regardless of your opinion of the Chicago scene (which we here at Pitchfork most certainly do not have a problem with; as our readers are fond of noting, it's quite the opposite), it's hard to argue with the fact that the Detachment Kit sounds a lot more like a New York band than a Chicago one. Their jerky, often melodic, and occasionally even anthemic post-punk would sound right at home coming off the stage at CBGB on a bill with some Rhode Island School of Design alumni.
In fact, the Detachment Kit frequently sound as though they could be Les Savy Fav's younger brothers playing in their own band on their debut, They Raging. Quiet Army. Guitarist/vocalist Ian Menard comes across as something of a more melodic Tim Harrington, while the rest of the band has their way with all manner of rhythmic interplay. However, the band manages to distance themselves enough from Les Savy Fav that their music doesn't begin to sound like pale imitation. On their own terms, the Detachment Kit are an agile band that show a great deal of promise.
The band doesn't really turn in a single bad song here, though a few stand especially tall above the crowd. "Yourself: A Majesty of Infinite Space" overflows with energy, opening with canonical screaming and launching headlong into frenzied guitar lines and syncopated drumming that pay tribute to yet another scene: D.C. Menard's multi-tracked voice is reminiscent of a less demented sounding Guy Picciotto, spewing lines like, "Now start the damage/ Start the sound." "Hurricane Designed for People" follows with stuttering verses and a kinetic sledgehammer of a chorus packed with piledriving bass and drums.
"11.22.63" typifies the Les Savy Fav comparison perhaps better than any other song on the album, with its slow start, building to the explosive screaming of the chorus, where Menard's similarity to Harrington is more obvious than ever. Even the guitar tones bear a certain resemblance to LSF's "Hide Me from Next February." Guitarist Charlie Davis III is fond of playing snaking countermelodies and aggressive leads with his guitar covered in trebly distortion. His leads on the opener, "High Seas," are especially brash, full of huge note bends, and they cut through with slashing chords.
The band's own production gives the album a rather dry, direct feeling, which works well for the most part. It especially suits the mathy guitar parts and remarkably restrained singing on "Sitting Still, Talking About Jets," a song that could easily drown if treated to too much reverb. Unfortunately, the song's linear structure leaves it a bit unsatisfying, as though there should have been another verse at the end.
"The Euphio Question" provides a nice contrast to the other songs with its relatively simple arrangement, slow pace, and e-bow guitar lines bordering on pretty. The vocal melody isn't quite as strong, though, and Josh Hight's melodic bass part actually ends up stealing the show for most of the song. "Never Hear Your Words" is even sparser, dispensing entirely with the muscular rhythmic backing that drives the rest of the album entirely at first, before building to a thunderous bridge. Menard coats the whole song in a rich melody that proves one of his most compelling.
"Another Great Champion Sought, Thought, and Died" follows a similar formula, beginning with quietly creeping verses over a steady kick drum and droning bass. The intensity gradually builds and recedes as Menard alternates between melodic singing and agitated shouting. Finally, the song bursts into processed hardcore shouting and stuttering, guttural guitar riffs at the 4\xBD-minute mark. This raging climax ultimately gives out, though, leaving the song to end with a brief passage of quiet, clean-toned guitar and subtle bass strumming.
The album closes with "The Illustrious Daniel Boone: Pioneer of Social Ingenuity," which changes things up by crashing in noisily before calming for the verses. Davis' e-bow finds its way back into the mix as well, arcing about behind Menard in the first few verses before making its final exit. The song unfortunately can't quite support itself for its full 6\xBD minutes, occasionally falling into listless passages that aren't convincing enough melodically or rhythmically. It's a fairly minor disappointment, though, coming at the end of an album with quite a few highlights.
They Raging. Quiet Army is a strong debut when taken as a whole, though the band definitely has a little cleaning up to do here and there. The Detachment Kit have proven that they have the range it takes to someday make a truly great record, and perhaps with another guiding hand, such as an outside producer, they should be able to do it soon. For now, though, let's just say they've done their city proud and leave it at that.
