The prevailing wisdom about alt-country's great drummers is that there are none. Monahans, then, had to go a long way to get some interesting drums in their songs. Born in Dallas' Deep Ellum neighborhood before relocating to Austin, they were originally known as Milton Mapes, a third- or fourth-gen alt-country act with strong songwriting, decent harmonies, some casually inventive guitars, and drums that were perfectly adequate. Feeling hemmed in by the restrictions of the form (which seems to be the shared story of most of the genre's career acts, from Wilco to Joe Henry to Old 97's), Milton Mapes broke up, then the four members got back together as Monahans, taking their name from a small town in west Texas. The quartet had to shed all of its associations, including its collective identity, to escape alt-country's tug.
"It's Enough to Leave You...", which opens Dim the Aurora, their second album as Monahans and first for Misra, puts Roberto Sánchez's drums right at the forefront, with a desperately steady beat that pushes the songs forward at a midtempo that wants to-- but never does-- break free into a full gallop. Sánchez is more than simply a timekeeper here, but an instrumentalist on equal footing with the guitars: That tambourine puts the jangle in "It's Enough to Leave You...", his toms ratchet the tension on the clockwork instrumental "Night #3" and bleed into the mandolin strums on "Over Fields". On "Fit for Fire", his drums and Britton Beisenherz's Bad Seeds-style bassline provide the latticework on which Greg Vanderpool and Jim Fredley hang their darting guitar licks.
It's not so much that Monahans' new sound allows for greater rhythmic presence, but that Sánchez's elevated position in the group allows them to create that new sound, to pivot in new directions. Bouncing on that drumbeat, "It's Enough to Leave You..." immediately showcases their ability to write dusty, concise hooks and to resolve melodies in interesting, unexpected ways. Monahans turn "Slow Burn" and "The Low Light" into surprisingly tender slow-dance numbers that echo any of Will Johnson's projects (unsurprisingly, he sings harmonies on the latter), and the messier, more abrasive "Fit for Fire" sets Vanderpool and Fredley's tight harmonies against a maelstrom of horns and feedback. On Dim the Aurora, atmosphere takes as much priority as songwriting, as the band makes the music do as much as the lyrics.
But ambience is easy, and Monahans occasionally use it as a crutch. The instrumental "Terrene" consists primarily of guitar scribbles and half-hearted timekeeping, reminiscent of Danel Lanois' dull Belladonna or, worse, Eric Clapton's Rush soundtrack. Except it goes on and on and on, finally fading out after 21 minutes. In all that time, they never wander in the path of an oncoming melody or really develop a theme, but simply sustain an easy high-desert mood that's not compelling five minutes in and even less so 15 minutes later. Most bands relegate this kind of indulgence to the final or hidden track (see Neko Case's "Marais le Nuit"), but there's one more song to go on Dim the Aurora, the slow-motion amble "Distorted Signals". It's hardly worth the wait. In 20 minutes Monahans squander all the goodwill those drums bought them.
