You wanted to see it…
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[6.09]
Anthony Easton: You shouldn’t have to come out if you have Mr Gyllenhaal playing tennis in shorts that short.
[9]
Alex Macpherson: Insipid, aimless and timorous: this is basically Owl City with a different kind of “interesting” (ie: derivative and dull) arrangement. That applies to the excruciatingly awful lyrics, too, in which Vampire Weekend throw one strained, clunky image after another at the song in the vain hope that something will stick. One feels sorry for Jake Gyllenhaal: from a cameo in last year’s triumphant “Blame It” video, now reduced to this.
[0]
Alex Ostroff: The best song by a country mile on an album full to the brim with best songs. “Giving Up the Gun” is the sum of hundreds of tiny musical joys — the swirl of electronics at the outset; the stuttering dubby guitar line that drives the song forward, only to disappear abruptly at the end of each line; the subtle choral harmonies as the first verse winds down; the instrumental breakdown that seamlessly weds trilling melodic guitar with buzzy beats. And floating atop all that is Ezra’s most assured vocal to date: “When I was seventeen / I had wrists like steel / And I felt complete.” The evocation of a life unlived and the pervasive sense of approaching obsolescence are masterful and affecting, like a less explicit take on LCD Soundsystem’s “All My Friends”. “And now my body fades / Behind a brass charade / And I’m obsolete.” (And I mean, with Jake and the JoBros and Lil Jon behind them, is there anything they can’t do?)
[10]
Chuck Eddy: Okay yeah, now I remember! This is one of the ones from their album that I thought was trying somewhat gallantly but still ineptly to have a “dance rhythm”, as in post-disco not just post-ska or post-worldbeat. At least it’s not one of the lousy ballads. Uh… I’m pretty sure I didn’t think there was anything else interesting about it then. Still don’t. Don’t mind when the gurgling comes in, but its welcome wears out. Still not danceable, either.
[5]
Martin Skidmore: Limp US college indie, with a simpleminded tune, fussy instrumentation and terrible singing. I am entirely mystified at their success – I can’t hear anything in them that I can imagine anyone liking at all. This seemed to drag on for hours.
[1]
Rodney J. Greene: A big part of what I liked about the first Vampire Weekend album was that while most indie pop bands using colorful sonic palettes overwork themselves painting every available inch of canvas with bright hues, VW were content to leave white space. Their productions were smaller and more focused in scope, which I took as a sign of confidence. They knew they could catch the listener’s attention rather with tunes, rather than bombast. Here, they succumb to that urge for huge. It shouldn’t work, the bells and choirs and crap should, by all means, only get in the way. But they are still as tuneful as ever, and the hook is strong enough to cut through the chiming glop. I just don’t like the style as much, even as they are hardly at fault.
[7]
Ian Mathers: Just as Hot Chip are our New Order, these guys are our Talking Heads (yes yes, that’s reductive, I know). I fail to see the problem, especially when the songs are as lovely and gently aching as this one. It is a bit longer than it needs to be, but it’s hard to begrudge them that twinkling, buzzing middle eight.
[8]
John Seroff: I went to a chili-tasting competition a week or three ago and one of the chilis in question boasted “vegetarian gluten soy product” as its key ingredient. It was, predictably, vaguely unremarkable stuff and when the chef demanded a response, the best I could do was “I can really taste the gluten”. That pretty much sums up how I feel about Vampire Weekend. I don’t have anything against them exactly; they sound just fine while you’re waiting for something better to come on and their bouncy, positive vibe leaves them totally sufferable. I will probably enjoy them a lot more in a few years when they get around to adding some spice and red meat. For the moment though, you can really taste the gluten.
[6]
Briony Edwards: The musical approach in this track is an interesting one (especially when compared to their previous output) – gently driving drum riffs and melancholic, yet upbeat, vocal harmonies are helped along by pretty xylophones and soothing basslines. Although decidedly less fraught than what they have offered prior, the Postal Service-esque minimalistic style still embodies the promise of summer they were initially heralded for.
[6]
Iain Mew: Unusually for Vampire Weekend, this is all about the forward momentum when the bass kicks in and its subsequent trips in and out from behind the second verse. It never reaches the same level, and they definitely pile a bit too much on by the end, but the chorus is sturdy enough to take it.
[7]
Alfred Soto: A dozen plays exposes the treacly nature of the chimes, but the indelible chorus remains, doing much to illuminate the vague narrative. This sounds more like Haircut 100 than their other singles – with shrewder musicianship and a lead singer who can negotiate between feyness and toughness.
[8]