Kris Anaya is the young songwriter behind An Angle. He's been writing songs since the age of 17 and likely drinking for longer than that. We Can Breathe Under Alcohol is the group's second album, and from just looking at the title and tracklist, alcohol is a recurring theme. While countless songwriters have drawn inspiration from the bottle, Anaya shies away from romanticizing a bad habit-- but nor does he reveal any telling anecdotes, epiphanies, or underlying morals. We just know he drinks. Like, a lot. The lyrics move from the cheap camaraderie of friends sitting at a bar ("Green Water") to reaching a David Brent-level of awkward confrontation ("Angry Drunk", which repeats "My parents think my drinking is becoming an issue" ad nauseam) that reveal nothing about Anaya or the "characters" he's writing about.
Arrangements are this record's saving grace. Compare the sparse acoustics of "Whales Talk Whales Walk" or "St. Augustine" to the horn section on "Change the World", the strings on "Angry Drunk", or the dash of piano near the end of "Green Water" (in a pretty direct nod to Elliot Smith's "Son of Sam"). They may not be daring additions, but they're nice aesthetic touches that show off the band's musicianship. They also take some of the focus from Anaya's vocals, reminiscent of another young prodigy whose name begins with a "C" and ends in "onor Oberst." But given the diversity of sounds on We Can Breathe..., it's a tolerable affectation, providing Anaya isn't stretching the word "light" into five syllables just to fit the rhyme scheme ("White Horse").
There's one more mantra on this record that gets almost as much lyrical attention as alcohol, which is: "Fuck the indie music scene." The "scene" is taken to task not just once, but on four different songs. Is that supposed to be provocative? Defiant? Maybe I'm taking the bait here, but might they be shooting themselves in the foot just a bit, considering We Can Breathe... sounds like a senior thesis in the Bright Eyes School of Vocal Delivery? More importantly, is the "indie scene" important enough to be juxtaposed against television, the NRA, the Capitol building, and the Iraq War in the lyrics to a supposed protest song ("Change the world")? Yes, indie rock must be stopped at all costs-- It's the wrong scene at the wrong time! No Blood for White Guys with Guitars! More than just over-earnestness and a whiff of hypocrisy, it's narrow perspective than sinks an otherwise adequate indie rock record.
What lingers with me the most is the final moments of the acoustic closing track "St. Augustine": When Anaya arrives at the final chorus, he calls to his background singers, "We need some help...so let's sing for peace!" After which, his monotone "la-la-la's" can barely be heard above the crowd. If Anaya can't be bothered to raise his voice, how can anyone be expected to sing along?
