Cymbals Eat Guitars – LOSE
Barsuk, 2014
A few years ago I gave up on
trying to be anything but an indie rock kid. It was hard to quit pretending
that I really listened to everything when really all I wanted to listen to was
people banging out chords on guitars singing simple, heartfelt songs. After
leaving KJHK, where I felt it was important to paint myself as someone who
loved all types of music, I went into a deep hibernation of 1990s alternative
rock. I listened to the Lemonheads and Superchunk incessantly in addition to
combing through the darker recesses of Guided by Voices’ back catalog. It was
so fundamentally necessary to unwind from almost four years of playing
tastemaker. It’s embarrassing that I even think of it like that, but that’s how
I approached my job at the station and when it was all over and the mask fell
off, I accepted myself for what I was: Someone with boring taste. That’s not to
say I don’t appreciate all different types of music, it’s just when I
instinctively reach for something to put on in the car or in my headphones I go
for the same sort of stuff. Some is punkier, some is poppier, some is folkier,
but it’s all a variation of my beloved indie rock and roll.
When I put on the new
Cymbals Eat Guitars record I was just looking for something pleasant to have on
in the background. I remembered enjoying their first record—Why There Are Mountains—when it came
through KJHK, but couldn’t remember anything but a line about Natural American
Spirits from the one song (“Wind Phoenix”) I listened to on repeat. They released
a follow-up in 2011 that I totally missed. The last I heard from them they were
doing an episode of the AV Club’s Undercover series in which they covered
Superchunk’s “Detroit Has a Skyline.” Which is ultimately what caused me to
take a chance on LOSE, which ended up
being one of the most surprising and enjoyable records I’ve heard all year.
All the indie rock elements
are there, but the Staten Island quartet arranges them in such a way and bends
generic conventions is a refreshing treat. The first three tracks go from
emotionally charged slowburner to a reverb drenched 80s alt-rock throwback to a
propulsive, harmonica heavy folk-tinged stomper. It’s an excellent place
setting that keeps the listener off balance but also keeps them locked into
curious route this band is taking. The lyrics come across deeply personal and
deeply sad. Certain lines catch my ear and I know I’m going to be poring over
this one for the rest of the year (“I learned to scream ‘Bone Machine’/ My
windshield spit was glistening” and “Each frequency’s a memory of some show we
attended/ Fuck you learner’s permit/ Drive down to Philly with me to see the
Wrens in a rec room” are good examples. Actually, there are a couple of Wrens
references on LOSE, and the lyrics
sheet looks a whole hell of a lot like The
Meadowlands. Which is a really good thing). The personal burden unloaded in
Joseph D’Agostino’s songs helps to eschew the normal indie rock conventions and
offer a document of drugs and friendship and grief. It’s the sort of deep, thoughtful
record with a hearty shelf life that makes me salivate.
"Jackson"
"Warning"
"Chambers"
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