The Rosebuds' 2003 debut, The Rosebuds Make Out, emerged within the small-but-noisy couplecore movement, situating the duo amongst Mates of State, Quasi, the White Stripes, and later, Matt & Kim. The thematic, and possibly autobiographical, trajectory of Ivan Howard and Kelly Crisp's records since, however, have set them a shade apart from their contemporaries. Their two subsequent records-- including their latest and best release, Night of the Furies-- have collectively traced the path of a boy/girl relationship with rich detail and no shortage of passion.
Make Out's version of lust was colored with the silly joy of youthful infatuation; chipper and hooky, its organ-laden songs extolled the virtues of playgrounds, hanging out with friends, and kissing. 2005's Birds Make Good Neighbors followed its predecessor's frolicking with songs about adult responsibilities and building a life together. The most appealing (and overlooked) aspect of Neighbors, however, was the melodramatic urgency the duo employed to elevate a set of songs about domesticity to the realm of a housebound West Side Story. Songs like "Outnumbered", "The Lovers' Rights", and irresistable opener "Hold Hands and Fight" peppered their version of Paul and Linda's McCartney with pep-rally cheers and handclaps, all delivered with the playful fervency of a campfire singalong. Settling down seldom sounds as much fun.
For its part, Night of the Furies retains the urgency and emotional mobilization of Neighbors, but with a darker edge. The record chronicles the melodramatic relationship stage when misunderstandings and differences are fended off with an impassioned hope for a mutual future. Neighbors' chants are back, but with a different, less playful tone.
Perhaps the most significant weapon in Ivan and Kelly's arsenal this time around is their pallette. The songs themselves are similar to, if not more emotionally and musically complex than, those on Neighbors, but they're presented with a stylistic left turn that in itself is an act of bravery. The genre classification "new romantic" certainly wasn't coined to refer to musicians who themselves were experiencing a fresh relationship, but Furies' omnipresent (and indeed surprising) use of synthesizers, echoed vocals, and drum machines lend it a gravity and immediacy that it wears very well. Different listeners will no doubt disagree on which synth-pop predecessor, or combination thereof, is the most fitting point of comparison-- there is definitely plenty of Pet Shop Boys, Roxy Music's Avalon, Duran Duran, New Order, Spandau Ballet, and Simple Minds on this record for days of deliberation-- but like Lansing-Dreiden's The Dividing Island, Furies is no retro-fetishistic pastiche. The darkly drawn glamour of early 80s synth-pop is the perfect fit for this cinematically inclined collection of songs.
Furies is well-sequenced, and bookended with its two finest songs. On album-opener "My Punishment for Fighting" (the chorus of which is a sax-refrain away from "Careless Whisper", and this is not a bad thing), Howard alternates a dinner-club baritone on the verse with his more recognizable high-register croon on the chorus, as a percolating synth bubbles underneath, and lonely piano plinks mirror the lyrical regret of a man who has seemingly thrown in the towel: "I could never be all you need me to, my punishment is living without you." The title track that closes the record is its finest moment, however; a stark, poetic, tuxedoed lament masquerading as mythology. A skittering, funky hi-hat and snare patter pecks at Howard's impeccably smooth tenor, which consistently echoes and interupts itself. The idleness of a stable life have triggered uncomfortable recollections for him, and he intones: "There's calm in these banquet years, so I tend to obsess about youth, before the guilt appeared. But I need to forget."
In between these two high points, Howard and Crisp navigate the choppy waters of romance with introspection, sentimentality, and barely restrained flamboyance, using Crisp's placid, hollow vocals to spooky effect. "Cemetery Lawns" is a great example of Furies' dark theatre, a raved-up battle emerging from a wedding gone wrong. Crisp plays the role of the bloodied bride there, before turning paranoid on "I Better Run" and "When the Lights Went Dim" after realizing, respectively, that an expected inheritance from a relative might hold more trouble than it's worth, and that a lover may not have survived a mysterious calamity.
With Night of the Furies, the Rosebuds have cemented their knack for interpretation and their continued willingness to imaginatively explore all facets of romantic relationships. Their two prior LPs progressed in the exaggerated manner of a dramatic serial, with each record increasing the emotional and creative stakes, and Furies feels like the culmination of an extended narrative.
