On his MySpace page, Jordan Geiger gently razzes the indie press bio form, noting, "I only record in REMOTE CABINS in the WINTER in BROOKLYN with a CANADIAN COLLECTIVE as my backing band. I have overcome MANY TRAGEDIES! My PARENTS are FAMOUS!" Tongue-in-cheek and perhaps a little too 2008, that blurb suggests the perspective of a guy who considers himself an outsider: a Lawrence, Kansas, native who's so far removed from any popular scene, whether it's Brooklyn or San Francisco or Montreal, that he can only look on with chagrin and perhaps a bit of scorn. Lonely Twin, Geiger's second album as Hospital Ships, seems preoccupied with centers and margins, inclusions and exclusions: "Open up the door and let me in," he sings at the beginning of opener "Love or Death". "Open up the door, time's getting thin."
Geiger is not really an outsider, though, at least not in the way that, say, Jandek is an outsider. Lawrence has always had a pretty good scene, and before launching Hospital Ships, Geiger did time in Shearwater, the Appleseed Cast, and the Minus Story. Members of those groups comprise his backing band on Lonely Twin, a big step from his 2008 LP, Oh Ramona, which was essentially Geiger solo. A multi-instrumentalist who favors keyboard and embellishments, he pulls out all the stops on these new songs, arranging and sometimes over-arranging them for maximum impact. The album is bursting with ideas, most of which work pretty well. On "Little Dead Leaf", he slams the drums up against the accordion in a skewed near-waltz, as though determined to keep the song afloat for a few more measures. The keyboards, however, sound like they're emanating from a ship that's just sunk beneath the waves, suggesting a sense of seasick unease.
Because Geiger hails form the Midwest and sings in a high, androgynous voice that recalls late-90s indie rock, Hospital Ships bear repeated comparisons to the Flaming Lips (who inspired Geiger's stage name). Unlike that band, however, he doesn't excel as a maximalist, as the bombastic "Reprise" proves. Repeating its refrain to the point of tedium, the song strains for impact but never quite achieves it. Perhaps a more apt comparison is to the Woodstock Americana of Mercury Rev, who likewise specialize in immersive arrangements and nuanced falsetto. Geiger's songs are densely arranged, yet strikingly, almost uncomfortably intimate, especially the disquieting hush of "Phantom Limb" and the fatalistic march of "Carry On" before it erupts into a Biblical din. There's a dark undercurrent of dispossession coursing through these songs, which sound measured and conflicted even as they grasp for meaning and import. That generosity of spirit suggests Geiger knows that everyone, even Canadian collectives and celebrity kids, is an outsider looking in.
