Album Reviews

Spoon returns with a more stripped down, rhythmic groove-of-a-set compared to the more heavily produced and subtle Kill the Moonlight.

Drummer Jim Eno almost steals the show here with his sinewy, behind-the-beat slams and songwriter/guitarist Britt Daniel almost lets him get away with it by giving him space and volume in the mix, but listen behind the beat and around the corner and you'll hear multi-instrumentalist Daniel's jagged edges and crunchy fills littering the musical landscape.

The result is easily the most enticing rock record of the year by far, aided and abetted by a recording right out of the 1960's and that's a good thing! This set will jump from your stereo and remind you why you went into hock to buy it in the first place. The production pops on a boombox, and makes a cheap car stereo sing. There are genuine dynamics, space, dimensionality and an absolutely stunning sounding and spacious drum kit.

But forget the sound. That's just an added bonus. The opener, “The Beast and Dragon, Adored” describes waking and struggling with the rock and roll mojo as well as any such tune and better than most. “Rented a room/And I forgot my pen/Shook my twin/And I had to find the feelin again,” Mr. Daniel sings in a Lennon-esque vocal style. He also lays down noise-grunge guitar attacks, ominous piano chords and heaps of musical gravel between Mr. Eno's slow burn pounding. This song alone is worth the price of admission as it announces a duo that knows how to create weight, shape, and especially glorious empty space in its music making, along with tunefulness.

Then it's on to a slinky, rich, image-laden but indecipherable (at least to me) “The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine,” backed by siren-y viola and cello. Daniel adds more adenoid to his voice approximating a pseudo Liverpudlian brogue that never descends into parody or self-consciousness. It's tuneful too.

That segues skillfully and seamlessly-as all the tunes do one to the next-to “I Turn My Camera On,” which sounds something like a Prince and David Byrne collaboration, with Daniel singing falsetto and Mr. Eno laying down yet another lip-smacking hard-funk, piledriver groove backed by Daniel's funk bass line.

At this point in the disc if you're not doing the Byrne geek neck thing you need stem cell research for your spine. The production here is subtle and savvy. Check out the barely audible cell phone ring-like synth bells, and other sonic detritus that bind the tune. Crank this sucker up and it won't bite but it will dig right through you.

“My Mathematical Mind” shifts the meter appropriately to a smart jazz groove that guest musicians on piano, bass and horns ride hard and put away wet. Again Daniel delivers slashing, crunching noise guitar lines that tear at the fabric of the groove to perfection.

“The Delicate Place,” as close as anything on this set to a love song, has Beatlesque and XTC-ish overtones, with brash surprising musical punctuations sprinkled throughout.

Just when you think these guys have tipped their musical hand, comes “Sister Jack,” an addictively tuneful piece of jingle/jangle froth-an homage to a musical life with a hook that will latch on and whiplash you back to 1965 or the first time you heard The Beatles. It captures the spirit without sounding cloying, and that's the secret of everything on this record. Like sunlight off a mirror, you'll catch the musical light but before you can actually see it, it's gone. Man, I love this record (in case you hadn't noticed)! And that's just side one!

Side two begins with “I Summon You,” which has a Tears For Fears/Steely Dan kind of groove that opens with “Remember the weight of the world/It's a sound that we used to buy/On cassette and 45,” but past that the wordplay is a bit oblique for my pedestrian brain. I think it's about cold cruelty and longing. “The Infinite Pet,” another longing-themed tune on which Daniel and Eno play everything, has a driving, almost techno beat, with a Squeeze-like patina, as does the slinky, mysterious “Was It You,” featuring Eddie Robert on “creepy bass.” Sound effects lurk through the underbrush in a symphony of brilliantly orchestrated punctuations. Mr. Daniel plays bass, guitar, flute patch, sound effects, sleigh bells, and Wurlitzer. Positively hypnotic, thanks in part to brilliant production and sound.

No let up as “Was It You” segues with raindrop effects and flanging into “They Never Got You,” the most Lennone-sque tune on the set, that will have you swearing Daniel has channeled the dead Beatle and his tune “Remember” without imitating him or defiling his memory. The lyrics are about maintaining one's integrity, mystery and privacy in the face of public scrutiny. It's rock and roll genius.

Finally there's “Merchants of Soul,” which would be somewhat ambiguous and impenetrable save for a reference to Ralph Reed so I assume it's a song about and against religious indoctrination. Amen.

And that's it! Simply the best record of the year so far. You can groove to it, you can dance to it, you can get lost in it, you can listen to it the old fashioned way, with a bowl and the lights out. You can discovery and extract the intricacies, you can explore the obtuse lyrics and wrap them around your mind. Or you can do all at the same time.

It's clearly an analog recording, judging by the blessed hiss, probably mixed to digital and cut by John Golden from a digital source but buy the RTI 180g LP anyway. It's 15 bucks, has a nice textured gatefold jacket and probably sounds better than the CD, plus you'll be supporting future vinyl and maybe I'm wrong and it's an AAA production but that's probably asking for too much.

Please buy this record.