Consider the following: Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, Feist, Grizzly Bear. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume you either like these bands or at least are willing to acknowledge them as the ruling class of no-qualifiers indie rock. Now, what if you saw that list on someone’s dating profile? Would you have a positive impression of this person? Conversely, what if a band used that list to point out their primary influences? Would you have a negative impression of this band? Would you consider them frontrunners or unambitious or lacking curiosity? They should at least be able to play the game and acknowledge Berlin-era Bowie or mid-90s Mariah Carey, right? The Belle Game aren’t trying to fool anyone: those are the influences slapped on their Facebook page and Ritual Tradition Habit proudly manifests the effect those bands had on the Vancouver quintet. But while Belle Game have taken a lot of cues from the sound of those bands, more importantly, they aspire to the ideal of being a critical and popular darling without sounding cool-- Ritual is unerringly tuneful and tasteful, with confident vocals, meticulous craftsmanship and no fear of being seen as middlebrow. In short, it could’ve come out any time in the past decade and sound just as good as it does in 2013.
The irony is that Ritual is something of a grower as a result of being so familiar. You might think you have “River” and “Wait Up For You” pegged within their first minute. Free of context, the choruses broad pleas based on their titles, “I’ve been your river since we were kids,” “I’ll wait up for you.” “River” begins with a waltz-timed flurry of chalkdust guitars that have to be from a Walkmen song you can’t quite recall; the intro of “Wait Up For You” is so reminiscent of Fleet Foxes’ “Ragged Wood” that you might just sing the “whoooooooa!” harmonies out of habit.
Any skepticism or accusations of theft are done away with pretty quickly, as singer Andrea Lo is the opposite of a “secret weapon," more of a demonstration of just how rare a commanding, powerful vocal presence is in this realm. It isn’t long before “River” and “Wait Up For You” generate enough velocity for liftoff, and the choruses don’t explode so much as slowly levitate and expand with Lo’s vocals guiding the way. No amount of artfully scuffed filters or small-screen production touches can hide that Lo’s a performer through and through, someone who could just as easily have been an R&B powerhouse or at least doing some off Broadway material.
For all the sonic immediacy, it doesn’t take much digging to get to Ritual’s dark roots. The chorus of “River” uses its titular metaphor in a disturbing way-- Lo empathizes with a place where bodies and secrets are dumped. “Wait Up For You” might sound like breathless infatuation, but the narrator appears to be at the mercy of a drunk lover or an absentee father, where the waiting is futile and endless. Lo’s lyrics are in such plainspoken language and the music so instantly accessible that you can easily miss Ritual dealing entirely in the wages of sin: prostitution, abuse, heartbreak, the list goes on. It’s hardly alone in its occasional Fleetwood Mac worship, but more than most bands, Belle Game zeroes in on the codependency and desperation in the lyrics.
Still, nearly everything here gives you a brief glimpse of who they could possibly open for in the upcoming months. As with “River” and “Wait Up For You”, many songs here could pass for a populist indie version of what the Field did on From Here We Go Sublime, in reverse; the “reveal” of the source material happens at the beginning rather than the end. You’ll catch the clacking rhythms and broad harmonies of early Local Natives (“Wasted Light”, “Blame Fiction”), skeletal guitar figures cloaked in reverb a la the xx and airy vocal runs taken from various Beach House songs. They gamely cover their tracks by making good on their “dark-pop” descriptor: “In Secrets” incorporates an intense orchestral swell more reminiscent of Montreal’s late-90s post-rock than its mid-00s indie, while “Salt + Water” is caked with oxidized distortion. Less convicing are the three interludes which intend to give the record some conceptual framework (“Ritual”, “Tradition”, “Habit”), but end up stunting its momentum instead.
Ritual ultimately brings to mind some phrase whose source I can't recall, it could've been a famous musician or just someone at a party: “it’s really easy for a band to be unpopular.” It’s a variant on poptimism, an acknowledgment that screaming over guitar ran through five effects pedals isn’t necessarily easier than writing a three-chord jingle. Belle Game shouldn’t be commended just because they’re not trying to be an improvisational noise band or what have you. But there is something weirdly daring about Ritual-- there’s no narrative, no currency, just an arguably naïve trust that they can draw you in with familiarity and let the strength of the musicianship and the depth of the lyrics win the day. It’s especially charming as the O.C. celebrates its 10th anniversary and causes many of us to look back with both warm nostalgia and a twinge of embarrassment at a time when polite, melodic and sync-able indie rock was indie rock. And for the most part it works; the fact that Ritual would sound good had it come out in 2004, 2008 or 2010 means it’s going to sound good in 2014 and beyond.
