If you've never seen the Twilight Sad live, here's your two-word review: they're loud. Like, just completely ear-splitting. A cynic might suggest that it's a defense mechanism for a relatively young band that doesn't trust their songs, or at least their ability to recreate them outside of a studio setting. It's certainly a possible explanation considering Fourteen Winters and Fifteen Autumns had a ton of guitars on it and only one guy to play them. As a result Andy MacFarlane became more reliant on delay pedals, looping together ringing "glide guitar" patterns into lattices of white noise-- it may have cut the distortion*,* but it sure wasn't quiet either.
Here, It Never Snowed. Afterwards It Did isn't a remix or a live album, but more of a document of how the Twilight Sad follow MacFarlane's lead to switch things up in a live setting. If the reworked "And She Would Darken the Memory" proves anything, it's that the band does have real songs underneath all the squall-- it's hardly a straightforward piece of verse-chorus writing, but the melody feels sharper, James Graham's voice is more confident as the most prominent features of the original (MacFarlane's moaning slide riff and drummer Mark Devine's insistent snares) are excised.
"Cold Days From the Birdhouse" was probably my favorite song of 2007-- even though the eruptive, sinus-clearing wave of distortion that cleaved the song in half has become completely anticipatory (and really, who didn't see it coming the first time?), it never loses its power to knock me out of my chair. The arrangement's wildly different here: Once again, no percussion and the only sound other than Graham's burry lines about hotels and red skies is a guitar shuddering somewhere between feedback and reverb in a manner that's nearly drone metal. Imagine the first minute and a half of the original pitch-shifted several octaves and ran through dot-matrix distortion. In essence, it's the original being turned inside out, exchanging eruptive catharsis for a tension that's enthralling and almost unbearable. Listen too close and it's almost like a soundtrack to delirium tremens.
It's a neat trick, but after the first 10 minutes, it's one they threaten to use too often-- even as Snowed clocks in at a modest six tracks, it gives a bit of credence to the criticism of Fourteen Winters as being a bit samey. The title track is the only new original, and though it's an arresting use of acoustic guitars, glockenspiel, and fan organ, Graham goes a little too Bono too soon, wailing from the get-go like they band's been at it for three minutes. The most radical alterations might be the most rewarding-- "Walking for Two Hours" does away with distortion almost completely and instead colors the edges with a subtle harpsichord accompaniment and cymbal sizzle, achieving a sort of gothic reinterpretation of the Walkmen. And while they're not the first band to cover Daniel Johnston's "Some Things Last a Long Time" this year, it certainly takes the most liberties with it-- it's quite an accomplishment to be drafty and billowed to the point where Beach House is concise by comparison, but not once during its seven minutes of bittersweet accordian hum (an instrument that's unfortunately phased out live) does it sound like the band is losing sight of the message and longing.
As strong as this EP is, don't think it's looking to transcend its status as a mere stopgap or fan curio-- the band itself admits Snowed isn't meant to forecast any future artistic arc. But even without Snowed as a guideline, it follows the idea of what they could do in order to surpass a debut that seemed like a single idea executed perfectly-- they've added a touring member from like-minded Glaswegians Aereogramme (who ably produces here) and dabbled in outside projects like bassist Craig Orzel's lo-fi pop (as Orzelda) and the band's soundtrack for NASA footage of the sun. Similar to Bloc Party's Silent Alarm Remixed, this might actually be a more satisfying listen, at the least a more diverse one, and more importantly, it sounds like a band realizing they can't go to 12, but they can horizontally integrate their volume in a way that makes their engrossing suburban ruminations deeper and more expansive.
