No matter where Plants and Animals went on their first two LPs, they always came bearing good vibes: If Arcade Fire had set out to make Barbecue instead of Funeral, it might've sounded like the trio's 2008 debut, Parc Avenue, perhaps the last hurrah of shambling, collectivist Canadian indie rock as we came to know it last decade. And while follow-up La La Land traded the requisite Montreal orchestration for Hollywood namedrops ("Tom Cruz", "American Idol", "Kon Tiki"), there was a still a Lebowski-like insouciance to it, a projection from a place where beards and beer flowed equally free. Point being I never thought that whether Plants and Animals were good dudes was up for debate, but while The End of That doesn't go too far beyond the La La Land DMZ between indie folk and jam-band, they've got some dark and heavy shit on their minds this time out-- they attempt to take unsparing inventory, offer sincere amends, and confront the responsibilities of adulthood. But the unyielding geniality of the music and slackjawed lyrics show a band either unwilling or unable to commit to its own emotional ballast or offer a sense of real stakes, the result of which is The End of That confusing a bummy hangover with a full-blown existential crisis.
In a vacuum, it's admirable that Plants and Animals are finding inspiration in a life pivot that doesn't get much play in rock music: The characters in these songs are still partying and waking up on friends' couches, only now they come to while their buddy's wife is making breakfast for the kids. That's essentially the lyrical thread running through the title track, "Crisis!", and "No Idea", the three songs here which most explicitly delineate the titular catch-all of "that." On "The End of That", Warren Spicer admits, "I tried the cocaine just to know what it could do/ I had to try it again just to give it a second chance," and the mundanity of it is actually rather bold for a topic that often results in exploitative oversharing or impenetrable metaphor. But as soon as you want to pull up to Spicer's barstool, he loses the plot, referring to an object of affection as a "fucked-up bumblebee/ Headed for the potpourri," and continuing to spit game from there: "You turn me on so with your bee-sting lips/ And your pepper-grinder hips/ Like a thread in the needle/ We're just typical people/ We're hoping to be friends and do cool stuff and be equal." It's frankly pretty impressive how many different linguistic devices are used for the same cringeworthy effect.
And that's generally how most of The End of That goes, getting in a totally sincere and totally awkward sentiment before Spicer's lyrics perilously tailspin over endless Stones-y vamps. While the tone of the lyrics and music are jarringly discordant, the compositional methods for both align all too perfectly. "Crisis!" serves as the literal and figurative centerpiece of The End of That, a sloppy lanyard of guitar and vocal threads that barely tries for melodic structure and lyrics that similarly favor first-take immediacy. "Well holy matrimony!/ Everyone is gettin' married or breaking up/ And the stroller situation on the sidewalk is way out of control," Spicer sings, and like so much of the record, it initially sounds plainspoken and charming until you realize absolutely nobody talks like that. Preceded by a false count-off and some friendly studio chatter, everything is arranged so that you have no reason whatsoever to think "Crisis!" wasn't actually made up completely on the spot. And as these things usually turn out, it's the longest song on The End of That, even more forbidding back to back with the equally aimless six minutes of "2010".
Occasionally, as on solemn opener "Before" and the driving, minor-key "Control Me", there's enough drawn shades obscuring the sunlight so that intent and execution can properly parallel, and with Spicer's voice bearing a similar grain to Nash Kato, they hint at Urge Overkill's genuinely despairing Exit the Dragon. But for a record that sounds like memories of better times, there's a disheartening shortage of hooks or melodies that aren't hitched to lyrics you'd rather forget: "Lightshow" has a spunky riff but never advances past it, while Spicer barges into a McCartney-styled piano progression on "No Idea", asking, "Do you fear loneliness?/ Do you fear getting left behind?/ All your friends are getting married/ They're having... a time." Look, kudos to Plants and Animals for intervening on themselves without the help of the local authorities or concerned family members, but whether it's the trailer preview-friendly bop of the music, the utter lack of palpable conflict, or the stilted dialogue and shoulder-shrugging catchphrases, I can't shake the feeling that The End of That is ultimately a Matthew McConaughey character come to life.
