Let's open with full disclosure: I once, albeit briefly and some time ago, subjected myself to nothing but emocore. Thus, in accordance with the Law of Recovering Emoists, I am instinctively skeptical of any lyrical mention of the months of the year. Actually, it makes me cringe. Invoking the calendar often reeks of sentimentality, and sentimentality is like strychnine: it's only ingestible in small doses.
So you can understand my trepidation in appraising August, the sophomore effort from the Portland, Oregon-based five-piece The Standard. Add to this unfortunate album title the bleak, sepia-toned landscapes throughout the packaging and you've got yourself a reviewer who's forced to slap himself and say, "Objectivity, dammit!" before ever pushing the play button.
At first, though, my suspicions were confirmed with the opener "A Year of Seconds". Over a plaintive acoustic guitar, Tim Putnam sings softly, "I've been walking on pins and needles since you are not around/ I have been sweating like ice on fire because you are not here now." But then The Standard changes their pitch up. A fuzzed-out keyboard barges in, accompanied by atmospheric whirring and stomping drums. And this was just a prelude. "The Five-Factor Model" goes straight to the keyboards, only this time they're beeping and ringing as though lifted from a 70s sci-fi flick. These notes become the undeniable hook when a jacked drumbeat kicks in, taking the song on a stop/start rush into post-punk territory. Later, blazing guitars soar together like I haven't heard since The Bends. Putnam's voice, meanwhile, is all jitters as he spits out blocks of words that, to my relief, don't make much sense at all.
This alternation between slow, reflective tracks and unpredictable, bone-vibrating rock continues for the entirety of the album. If The Standard ever decide to hold an election on the matter, perhaps as a non-binding ballot question, then I'd like throw my support right now to the rock. I can't imagine it was lolling numbers like the piano-driven ballads "Angelicate" and "The Quiet Bar" that got them on tour with Wire and Clinic. Rather, I'd guess they were chosen for, say, "Behind the Screens", with its raw keyboards, tumbling drums and unexpected shifts.
It's not that The Standard are terrible at the slow stuff. They're just a little, well, standard in that department. "Paper", for instance, skips along on a raining xylophone and brushed drums, clearly taking its cues from Tortoise and Gastr del Sol. "Tree Line" and "Bells to the Boxer", meanwhile, are pleasant, though not particularly noteworthy until, minutes into each, The Standard's slumbering electric guitars rip things wide open.
The problem here is best exemplified by Putnam's voice. Simply put, his larynx is thrashed. It has been chewed up, spit out, and surgically reattached. So, unsurprisingly, it isn't well-suited for hushed singing. But what baffles me is this: If Putnam loves rocking out so much that he's willing to permanently damage his voice box, then why even bother with anything else? Next time, I say, go full tilt, and please, whatever you do, don't look back.
