Tall Firs was an album preoccupied with empty spaces and the sleepy vocals of guitarists Aaron Mullan and Dave Mies. It was both boring and efficient electric folk music, allergic to fuss and incapable of breaking a sweat. So what the hell happened? Drums were never, ever the point. Yet here they are, playing an integral (central?) role on the Brooklyn duo's follow-up, Too Old to Die Young, a record that growls where its predecessor purred, unsettles where it soothed, and generally does whatever it can to make more racket. So this is what the volume knob's for, huh?
Of course, adding a force behind the kit can do that to a band. And journeyman Ryan Sawyer has been around the block-- with decibel-adorers like At the Drive In, Celebration, TV on the Radio, Stars Like Fleas, and earplugged into the 62 spot on the Boredoms 77 Boadrum plot. Faced with a résumé like that, what were Mullan and Mies to do but brawn up their yawny folk? So here they are, recasting themselves as a rangy rock band. With feedback and everything. But does it serve them well?
On occasion. In the place of Tall Firs' dreary hush, Too Old offers tracks like the adamant lead-single "So Messed Up", and the Pavement blotter "Hairdo", where Sawyer turns his band into a crew of galvanized indie rockers-- a strange look for a couple of saddos who were supping codeine last time out. But the energy is far from unbecoming, bringing Mullan and Mies out of a self-imposed coma with a couple more BPMs. Then there's "Warriors", where the Firs gets downright skin-crazed and wild. Toms patter and cymbals rattle while the guitars do what we never dreamt they could: stir themselves into a mini-furor.
But Sawyer's work is a distraction when the songwriters long for their old template. Both "Hippies" and "Blue in the Dark" are caught between worlds, with warm guitar lines that wouldn't sound out of place on the debut, but with drums that beg to be matched and cathartic outros that come too little, too late. Indeed, the hallmark of this record is a disjointed sort of dynamism, a frustrating lack of cohesion indicative of a band that's still feeling itself out. After all, Sawyer's entree is a game changer. Before, Tall Firs might as well have been Mullan or Mies' solo project, dudes with guitars playing self-contained songs and sounding half asleep. Now, uneven or not, the songs seem to breathe on their own, benefiting from a shot of rhythm and a healthy sweat.
