Please, stop right there. Certainly by now, you've noticed the numerical rating several pixels above this second sentence, and you're already thinking, "Another 7.something. No time for this." Your pointer is above the back button, your finger on the trigger. Don't do it, please: Over the past two months, I've listened to The Ken Burns Effect, the second proper record from New York-centered collective Stars Like Fleas, about 50 times, and I'm about as close to offering a conclusion now as I was around spin five. The number above is a suggestion to listen but also a waiver to go right back to your Fleet Foxes or Lil Wayne if need be. That is, it's an absolute indication of quality, not a guarantee you'll find your new favorite band. The Ken Burns Effect is one of the year's most ambitious and daring records, blessed, beset and united by the desire to steer clear of indie rock's middle road, to be ambitiously good. It loses and wins big, sometimes in the same song, sometimes in the same verse. But, at the very least, just as you shouldn't pass on a band because of an inane name like Stars Like Fleas, records this cared for shouldn't be skipped because of a rating. Sometimes, I think The Ken Burns Effect deserves a 10.0. Sometimes, it feels like a 2.0. You might hate it. You might love it. But you need to hear it.
Stars Like Fleas deals mostly in symphonic pop de-/reconstructions, building around the words of co-architect Montgomery Knott with elaborate stacks of melodies and slingshot maneuvers that dart through seemingly linear movements. No moment of The Ken Burns Effect suggests the path of least resistance. Even the band's pop ideal, the three-minute "Berbers in Tennis Shoes", twists contexts and introduces unease. "Berbers" bounces to a steady, springy rhythm, and wide, arching horn-and-string arrangements lift its four sections up and along. But such relative rhythmic stability clashes with the song's broader sonic dual: Banjo, glockenspiel, harp, flute, and a flugelhorn guide the melody along, but a current of dissonance-- occasional sharps and flats from the pretty instruments and an electric guitar that threatens to raze the whole thing with noise-- runs like a bright blue vein beneath otherwise unblemished skin. And Knott isn't selling you on empty sentiments, either: "Have you slept with your fill of men?" he asks acerbically, later indicting with the suggestion, "Money saved for those who were fucking you." Similarly, "Karma's Hoax", which opens the album after a collagist introduction, pits skittering drums and squawking bass clarinet and baritone saxophone beneath beautiful dream-like vocals, pedal steel moans and patient piano chords. The drums and horns temporarily overrun the song's softer side, slapping at the theme like Albert Ayler letting "Spirits Rejoice" with Fred Frith and Joey Baron.
Fortunately, Stars Like Fleas don't use their philosophy of flourishes just to corrode or provide wrinkles. "I Was Only Dancing" is a simple country-ish creeper-- steady drums, banjo, and acoustic guitar gliding under Knott. He sounds most comfortable somewhere between Dave Matthews and Chris Martin, quietly insistent but capable of rising into choral resplendence when needed. The band forces his voice here, and, in turn, they help deliver one of the record's best moments. Even though Knott's words indicate deep desperation, the chorus-- lifted by good company-- sounds like the darkest clouds broken by the brightest sunlight must look. Continuing sounds possible, enjoyable even. And there's "Falstaff", which reads less like a "song" and more an like elliptical, illusory verse entwined into a glorious musical setting. Those free drums return, dispersing the rhythm into a gorgeous matrix of sound. Trilled violins flash low in the mix. Single piano notes rise, hover, dissipate. Sharp dobro licks cut through it all, like a sharp knife made gorgeous by craftsmanship. Even without vocals, you'd never forget "Falstaff" and its strangely interlocking whorls.
Those compositional complexities and wormholes stem somewhat from the band's foundation and evolution. Stars Like Fleas has long been Knott and Shannon Fields, together forming ideas, then organizing a sprawling core of part-time members and collaborators to expand them. No less than 21 people-- from Sam Amidon and Espers' Jesse Sparhawk to former Bungle bassist Trevor Dunn-- contribute to The Ken Burns Effect. While most of the additions work, such loose collaboration is the double-edged sword that likely shaved the number up top that everybody's so worried about. Some of the ideas feel slightly pedantic-- like an (admittedly accomplished) microtonal drone that introduces "Toast Siren"-- or even lazy, like the token electronic beat that rattles after the drums on "You Are My Memoir". By adding too much to a song, Stars Like Fleas occasionally diminish the mass of their own accomplishments, reducing the gravity of the best moments. You're left floating. Moving quickly from one allusion or clipped phrase to the next, Knott's words sometimes do the same. Eventually, though the band will bring you back. I can promise that, even if I can't make any promises about that pesky 7.5.
