Blog On The Motorway

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. Then every third week we review a suggestion from you lovely people. This weeks installment comes courtesy of Joe Lee, who is himself a recent addition to the blogosphere, so go check him out.

Once again Cross Blogination rolls around and provides me with another album that initially makes my heart sink.  The name of the band, ‘Death Cab For Cutie’ is unassailably emo, right? And aren’t they one of those bands who continually show up on the soundtrack to The OC and Dawson’s and The Hills?

Well thankfully I slip Narrow Stairs into my headphones and find instead a tremendous album, one that melds together the very best parts of American and British indie sensibilities to create a timeless, off kilter album. Opener ‘Bixby Canyon Bridge’ starts things off with a bright breezy feel, like early Fountains of Wayne mixed with the off kilter rhythms of Deus, with the song referencing the works of Jack Kerouac.

Second track (and brave lead single) ‘I will possess your heart’ opens with a jam reminiscent of Kid A-era Radiohead (also check out the front cover for more Radiohead influence), before sneaking up to a sizable chorus that packs heft that one wouldn’t expect from such fey indie types.

Vocalist and songwriter Ben Gibbard holds together all the dissonant parts of the album with his excellent vocals, clean and bright and emotive without ever straying into the hackneyed bleating of his peers.

‘No Sunlight’ is a lovely piece of American pop, again recalling the sensibilities of Fountains of Wayne, with a hint of Ben Folds songwriting. ‘Cath’ is wistful and melancholy without being downbeat, ‘Talking Bird’ is a lovely Elliot Smith by way of Jeff Buckley number, while ‘You Can Do Better Than Me’ recalls the stomp of the Beatles.

‘Grapevine Fires’ is a real highlight of the album, a soaring and epic song, again melancholy without being depressing. ‘Your New Twin Sized Bed’ retains this feel, like a less brittle Elliot Smith, with Remy Zero experimentation (without sucking tremendous balls like Remy do.)  Despite all these reference points, however, the sound is one entirely of their own, beautiful and epic.

If there is a weak point on this album it comes in the form of ninth track ‘Long Division’, which comes across as a very bland radio-friendly hit, and it sits uncomfortably alongside the rest of the album.  This dip in quality is only temporary though, as track ten, ‘Pity And Fear’ is a barnstorming high octane track that calls to mind Weezer and Quicksand, and is for me one of the best tracks on offer here.  Starting off with a throbbing drum track and slowly building guitars, it erupts towards the end before ending suddenly, a result of a snapped tape during recording, which apparently they liked.

After this sudden end, ‘The Ice is Getting Thinner’ rounds things off with a slow and hunting vibe, quite out of keeping with the rest of the album, the guitars sounding much warmer than the sharp sound of the rest of the album. As with the rest of the album the lyrics are excellent and very eloquently sung, the vocals never straying into cliche.

One of the main reasons for doing this blogging experiment was to expose myself to albums that I wouldn’t ordinarily have chosen to listen to, and in Narrow Stairs I have found an album that is sure to survive not just the reviewing process, but which I imagine will become a vital part of my music collection.  In turns odd, accessible, surprising and moving, this is a great introduction to band I would imagine I will be becoming more familiar with over the coming months.

4/5

Now head over to Gray’s place, and see what he made of it.  This being more his cup of tea at first glance, I imagine he likes it.

A manic week this week, so things have been a bit erratic around here. Monday’s post got shunted because I normally write these when I am on my lunch break, but about two hours before lunch I got asked to take my first driving lesson, as Ellen couldn’t make it.  And so with no mental preparation I took my first driving lesson in 13 years, when my parents bought me ten lessons for my 17th birthday.

I was a little bit rusty, and couldn’t really remember where everything was or how to work it, but I got the hang of it again pretty quickly, doing left and right turns, junctions and even second gear, all on my first attempt. I only stalled twice as well, so all things considered I was pretty chuffed.

It was all a million miles away from my last lesson, when I nearly turned myself and my utterly incompetent driving instructor into a giant moving fireball. Coming up to a junction I slowed, only to be told I could make it, so I gunned it and went from second to third gear, only to miss and stick it in fifth. Due the steep hill we were on it caught, and suddenly we were hurtling at 70mph towards a stream of slow moving traffic.

My instructor’s response to this was to scream loudly at me, like Steve Martin in Planes Trains and Automobiles, so perhaps you will understand why it’s taken me thirteen years to get back into a car. But I digress.

I decided to make up for this with a double post yesterday, although the more observant of you will have noticed that only one surfaced.  Cross Blogination was written yesterday (hopefully it will surface tonight) but rather than having a nice night in last night, I spent the evening at York District Hospital, as my daughter hobbled around and me and her Mum sat waiting.

Anyway, everything is all right, there’s nothing wrong with Rosie, but it got me thinking that surely the hospital visit is a rite of passage for any parent. Chances are that we will all end up there with our children for something or another, and I couldn’t help but feel thankful that we have been so lucky with her. 

She is two and half now, and there’s been (touch wood) nothing major so far, while we have seen other parents go through nightmares.  I know for any readers across the pond that today is Thanksgiving, so while I utterly abhor the way you celebrate the genocide of your indigenous peoples with mashed potatoes with little marshmallows in, I can join in today in at least giving thanks.