The Maccabees emerged at a time when UK bands had it good. In the mid-2000s, the Futureheads, Bloc Party, and Arctic Monkeys all released exciting debuts. And there was enough connective tissue between the groups to make them feel like they somehow belonged together-- shared post-punk influences helped in that regard. These bands made sense both in isolation and as a whole; the Maccabees debut record, Colour it In, slotted just fine on the racks next to Maximo Park.
In 2012, the world of indie bands in the UK is more fractured, and the Maccabees struggle to find a foothold. They are the sort of band that looks much better in a throng. There's nothing especially remarkable about them and, at this point, they feel like a reflection of the stalled state of British indie music in general. Perhaps as a way to shake things up, the band's third record, Given to the Wild, looks to the sound of Wild Beasts and Foals, two of the few real UK indie success stories of the past couple of years. On a similar tip they also enlist Tim Goldsworthy of DFA fame to produce, though there's very little you would usually associate with him on this record.
Setting aside the obvious grabs from other bands and sounds, there are moments where the darker hues suggest that this is in fact a more interesting direction for the Maccabees. "Child", for example, revolves around an elastic bassline, brass, and descending guitar patterns, and the harmonies are nicely laid for the first couple of minutes. The sense of restraint is effective, allowing enough space to open up for each of those pleasing elements, but then the final couple of minutes spoil things, especially when an uninvited gaudy, prog-guitar line crowds the party.
Elsewhere on Given to the Wild, the Maccabees grasp for big sounds and big ideas but fall way short. On "Forever I've Known", singer Orlando Weeks does his best Win Butler impression, and it's so accurate you could be forgiven for checking the liner notes for a guest appearance credit. It doesn't stop with the voice either. Weeks also mines classic Arcade Fire tropes with his lyrics-- mortality, time, loss-- but there's no narrative, just a jumble of barely connected platitudes and simplistic resolutions such as, "Forever I've known, nothing stays forever." They shoot for the bigger picture again on "Pelican", but there's no insight or depth to clichés such as, "One thing's for sure, we're all getting older" and "Before you know it, pushing up the daisies". These are sentiments that would feel banal on a Facebook news feed, let alone an album by a major label recording artist.
Any hint of an interesting idea or sound on this record has been done better by somebody else-- and quite recently, too. Surely there's nobody that would trade the rich textures and awkward sexual drama of "Plaything" by Wild Beasts for a bland quickie with anything on Given to the Wild. The personalities on this album are so blank the songs may as well be performed by apps, and sung by Siri. The overriding message you get from Given to the Wild is that life is too short. As it clocks in at nearly an hour, but feels much, much longer, you finally think they might have a point.
