Collections of "lost songs and loose ends"-- which is how Cursive's new The Difference Between Houses and Homes bills itself-- invite commentary on everything but the music. The overlooked tracks at hand are, more often than not, acknowledged duds. They get left behind for a reason. So what's the redeeming value of the albums that compile them? It's the artifact, man. History! Put yourself in the shoes of Omaha denizens Cursive. You've been together for 10 years. How better to calcify your status as Important Band than with an odds-and-sods compilation? It's practically a rite of passage.
Behold, a snapshot: The Difference Between Houses and Homes offers 12 songs, culled from seven-inches and unreleased tape, spanning six years (1995-2001). I like Cursive, and had high hopes for this one. But the spendthrift in me blows a gasket when faced with the facts: These cast-asides aren't even offered at a discount; you'll pay the same for this as you did for The Ugly Organ, Cursive's latest and best studio album. Love to say it's worth it for a glimpse at evolution in progress, but this offal doesn't make for much of a menu dilemma: Given the choice, most folks will order the rib-eye over the hangar steak.
Expectedly, the longest lost tracks (talking '95, '96) are the most amateurish. Stripped of the heady orchestral accouterments of the band's post-millenial work, opener "Dispenser" is all splintery emo (not emo) angst. (Here I must tell TextEdit to learn, for the eight billionth time, the cuss; how many Fall Out Boys will it take for the world to recognize the emo phenomenon?) "Pivotal", from 1998's "Icebreaker" seven-inch, is the same song, only minor-keyed and more convolutedly structured. Both numbers do everything they're supposed to: Take a riff, ruffle it with distortion, add a melodramatic vocal, and eu-fucking-reka.
I have a high tolerance for vocal histrionics, but Tim Kasher has made a career of getting under listeners' skin, and The Difference finds him at his most unabashed. On "There's a Coldest Day in Every Year", he struggles to pilot the shapeless, vaguely psychedelic music. But it's songs like "The Knowledgeable Hasbeens", which require an indoor voice, that give Kasher the most trouble. I have no hang-ups with a vocalist "hiding" behind screaming; I wish this one would do so more often. But while Kasher's vox are rarely less than vociferous, his stilted delivery (a now-prevalent, mockingly hoarse style of which he was a progenitor) actually helps: It can be hilariously entertaining to hear him pitch a hissy, especially when it sounds like he's screaming, "REGGAETON! REGGAETON!" as on "A Disruption in the Normal Swing of Things".
On balance, however, Kasher is less violent than silent. He leaves gaping voids for his band to fill, and they do, ably but often meanderingly. Clint Schnase has been Cursive's drummer since the band's inception and, while he does a serviceable job, I wish he'd erupt with more colossal, tom-heavy fills. Here he's tight and tasteful but mixed too high to justify the asceticism of his playing. The band's latter-day, fatter-budget albums have added reverb and instruments, diminishing any one player's import. A song like "Nostalgia", however, from 2001, would benefit from a slightly more rhythmically technical treatment, even if that would spell E-M-O-C-O-R-E.
While collections like this aren't spared critical dissection, their real job is to get fans excited (again) about the issuing group. I have more than a few friends who would kill for my promo (to enter a lottery, email ubl@pitchforkmedia.com). Can't say The Difference Between Houses and Homes had me thirsting for my Cursive faves, although it came close: I now have this weird craving to hear Braid's "Eulalia, Eulalia". Man, that takes skill.
