Grizzly Bear: Vekatimest Review

 

I think I'm a little salty Grizzly Bear never got the attention that Vampire Weekend did in the zeitgeist. This isn't to say people give them poor reviews; the band is well recieved by critics. It's also not unfair, as their music isn't quite as immediately enjoyable as the Koenig Crew. There was a moment that it felt possible when Vekatimest came out, as the radio was ready for acts like Of Monsters and Men or Mumford and Sons to play arena folkrock all day long. Grizzly Bear just couldn't convert. I suppose I'm happy for that though, as what we got wouldn't really have done well for that demographic anyway. And what we got....oh Neptune is it good.

It's weird, though, that so much attention was given to Yellow House, looking back. The sound was there, but the specifics and the songwriting were still really weak. It didn't always feel like it was going somewhere. So often it's easy to praise a band that walks away from a traditional verse-chorus-verse-chorus foundation, but we don't often identify it as the reason an album doesn't work. Maybe it feels hypocritical.

With Vekatimest, it becomes very clear that this structure was the thing missing. You wouldn't know it from listening to just the first song though. Southern Point comes out of the gate showing a dazzling array of textures, motifs, and varying volume sections. It's their Bohemian Rhapsody. But once that's done, the album settles into a bunch of examples of why that song works.

Two Weeks is a lot more than their most radioworthy song to date. There's some very satisfying distortions washing out the choruses like a sun reflecting on a windshield, and just such a lovely hook. The sunny high notes Droste and co sing like choir boys pair so well with the syncopated synth pecks. It's a great showcase on what they've learned about building something out of the motif instead of just letting it lie there.

Fine For Now feels almost taped together, or perhaps like cutting paper snowflakes and then revealing them. There's a blossoming quality to the guitarwork in the refrains that feels almost like a doubling of what is presented in the verses. By the end it's almost too much for their instruments to handle as the guitars sizzle like a shorted wire. Yet, all of it feels cohesive; there's an obvious throughline.

I could go through each of the tracks like this, but it would be diminishing returns in terms of importance to my opinions. I leave it at this: if you like Grizzly Bear, you're getting more of it. If you don't, I struggle to see how this will change your mind. If you've ever listened to their debut Horn of Plenty, you'll know that admittedly Yellow House really was a million steps forward (partially explaining the acclaim) for the band. This is closer to a thousand steps forward, and it was smart to continue walking in the same direction. They were so close to the target already.

If there is anything to complain about, you might have an issue with the homogeneity of the set. Ready, Able can sound a little close to All We Ask, or About Face, or While You Wait for the Others. But each of them does have their own tune, and each one is really nice to listen to. I think if any of them were cut, I'd miss them. It's like coffee: once you know what to expect, that bean water is hard to continue sipping. 

If structure is the biggest improvement, the most enjoyable improvement is the production. There's a noticeable difference in recording environment that's taken away the slight tin-like sounds of Yellow House, which gives the album a warmer feeling. There's better mixing and processing as well, or at least smarter intentioned. So often I hear music that adds scratches or warps on top of the music, but that's not what's happening here. These recordings sound old because they obfuscate what old recording equipment was also unable to create. This may have a lot of resemblences to Beach Boys era music, with jangy juggy guitars, oohs and aahs in high harmony, and basic drumkits, this isn't music for surfers. It's far too avant garde when it's loud, and often just way too calm.

Of course that's just a style they wear when it suits them, but that's what I would hope they would do. As much as I like the structure they have learned to apply, I'm happy they drop it at the right times too. It's a great tipping-scale trick they keep playing on us in multiple ways. Sometimes it's calm to nearly religious zeal. Sometimes it's a chorus that slides into a wall of sound. Other times still it's lovely classical guitars that get replaced by blinking synths and modern cadences.

The lyrics follow this theme as well. There's a familiarity to the themes--lots of soul searching, loss, love, all the stuff we all want to feel enlightened about. Sometimes it's quite direct, as seen on Two Weeks or While You Wait for the Others, but there's plenty of vagueness to go around. For much of the record, the lyrics seem to serve the music, following the cadences instead of bending the music to the emotion of the lyrics. All We Ask laments "I can't get out of what I'm into with you", but it's sung with such a pleasing release as the song winds down.

And so I am left asking questions about....everything. Much like the cover art, there's an obvious overarching theme, but it's not quite a pattern, it's not a tesselation, it's not a mosaic, and it's not quite organized. But all of those things are there in some form or another, begging me to find them. I'm so happy I haven't found them yet, always just out of reach no matter how much progress I make. The more I listen, the less I feel I understand.

That's the kind of music that gets talked about for centuries.

10/10