Whereas releasing a full-length record, the definitive
collection of audible art, is forever the ideal dream for an artist, such a
feat is always laden with expectations, both monetary and creative. Because of
the sheer work involved in writing songs, recording, marketing and artwork, not
to mention the gross amounts of money spent along the way, a band quickly
learns that there is a whole lot riding on the success of their record’s sales.
Conversely, the EP, because of its shorter length and production involvement,
feels more like a gift than a death sentence. For the fans, the EP is a small
record to collect and appreciate; for the label, it’s a small-time release that
promotes the act and keeps public interest; and for the band, it is a chance to
try new techniques, sounds, and ideas without worrying about sinking the entire
ship. The extended play lets a band flex their creative wings, and gives them a
few tunes on which to concentrate their expression, regardless of whether or
not anyone likes it – and this is exactly what At the Drive-In does with Vaya.
The band’s penultimate release before their dissolution, Vaya is a heavy dose of distilled ATDI,
seven songs composed to the band’s specific and intellectual tastes, and a
great example of their dynamic approach to music. Though tempos may vary, every
tune drips with pure, unfiltered energy, the fury of youth wound around the precision
of experience. Because this record is made up of only seven songs, the band
takes the opportunity to really stylize their sound and give Vaya a unique feel. Every song is
written in a minor key, allowing for a somber and frustrated mood to settle
into the listener, reflected by pervasive time signature changes and dissonant
intervals. Similarly, the EP is laden with an electronic influence, showcasing
Jim Ward on keys almost as much as on guitar, and featuring a heavy array of
new effects. In an interview, drummer Tony Hajjar remarked that the band “get[s]
bored really fast” and so always “want[s] to do different things” with their
music, finding ways into integrate “new toys” into each subsequent project.[1]
Between dub drum beats and squealing synthesizers, At the Drive-In lays a fresh
digital flavor onto their melodic and heavy punk tones across the span of this
record, filling it with a crisp feel that is neither boring nor hackneyed.
There is a whole lot of arranging a band can do in the small
space provided by an EP, and At the Drive-In wastes not a second. The
composition is very focused on this record, and ATDI leaves the listener with seven
complex and thoughtful tunes. The guitar work often moves through dissonant
territory: Omar Rodriguez-Lopez paints some incredibly tense images across the
mind with “Metronome Arthritis” and “300 MHz,” finding tones that are
terrifyingly and certainly reminiscent of his later work with The Mars Volta. The
sincere amount of thought poured into Vaya
shows a maturity rarely seen in punk music, yet the honest blood of these fives
musicians screams through the speakers with every spin, proving that they have
lost none of their youthful motivation. At the Drive-In approaches the songs on
Vaya from a completely novel
viewpoint, allowing them to extend far beyond the boundaries of simple music.
One tune where the band truly lays it all out is “198d,” the
record’s emotionally-charged closer. Named for the inscription on the
gravestone of drummer Tony Hajjar’s grandmother,[2]
this tune voyages back and forth between the realms of ballad and anthem with
undeniable grace. Beginning with soft synths and delayed guitar melodies, “198d”
feels like a funeral procession, and seems to travel through all seven stages
of grieving, wavering between virtually inaudible verses and sharp, wailing
choruses. Similarly, Cedric’s vocals are a sympathetic whisper in the verses,
sharply contrasting with the heart-rending shouts of the chorus reminiscent of
the grief-stricken. The tune’s time signature even reflects the constant
changes, morphing into 12/4 in the bridge before sliding back into common time.
“198d” encapsulates more sorrow, anger, and attention to detail than most
records do, and is a prime cut from a band known for its intelligence and feel.
Not surprisingly, Cedric’s lyrical contributions to Vaya are just as thoughtful and
intricate as the composition. His writing edges heavily into metaphor on this
EP, and he takes a firm grasp on the musicality of his words, giving them the
feel of pure poetry. His word choices and syntax reflect a deep level of
cognition, as he effortlessly juxtaposes images of Roman Emperors with those of
the Space Race in “Proxima Centauri,” fusing two vastly different ideas into
one seamless movement. Much of the lyrics are focused through a lens of
violence, and Cedric’s screaming delivery doubles the effect. Another powerful
motif which is handled with care and intensity is that of crime: Cedric’s
desperate queries of “What if forensics finds the answers? / What if they stole
my fingerprints?” in “Metronome Arthritis” are both chilling and guilty,[3]
while his commanding “Let the thieves in through the front door”[4]
in “Heliotrope” is one of the most poignant moments on the record. Cedric’s
heavy topics and subtle imagery mix very well with the heavy and disturbing
tones of the instrumentation, working to maintain the mood of darkness and
unrest present on Vaya.
The brutal and universal honesty at the very root of it is
what makes this EP move so powerfully through its listener. Every note of every
tune is imbued with absolute importance by this band, a belief that what
they’re creating is worthwhile, even if the end result isn’t always
spectacular. Truthfully, although certainly listenable, I find “Metronome Arthritis”
and “300 MHz” to be too laden with dissonance to truly enjoy them, and the
minute-long wait for “Proxima Centauri” to really take off looses a lot of
steam from the song. But even if I don’t love every second, I can’t help but
appreciate the raw and meaningful veracity At the Drive-In has poured into it. In
an interview with Buddyhead, Omar stated that even though “people want the same
record” to be made over and over again, At the Drive-In refuses to bend,
because for them, making music is about “keeping ourselves happy and
entertained.”[5] There are no delusions or
ulterior motives, which is why even the worst decisions on Vaya work so well. The sincerity of the music is so prevalent that
it seems almost its own instrument, and deftly resolves any harsh moments of
noise into robust and gritty successes.
Though the record is tinged with some lukewarm moments, one
song where At the Drive-In slaughters from start to finish is the punchy
“Heliotrope.” Perhaps the fastest tune on this EP, “Heliotrope” offers an
intricate blend of both punk intensity and post-hardcore aesthetics. The band
tears through heavy verses, as Omar yanks notes from the bottom of his neck and
Cedric all but tears the lining of his throat out. Tony’s drum beats are simply
insane, and he leaves no part of his kit unbruised. In stark contrast to this
madness are the more melodic-based choruses, where guitars whine and the rhythm
section sounds more like a gentle knock than blunt trauma. The juxtaposition of
loud and soft, beauty and fury pervades “Heliotrope;” Cedric’s entire vocal is
screamed, but poetically powerful lines like “Heat seeking, gums bleeding /
fingers snapping at the catacomb stabbings”[6]
only gain from his guttural delivery. With its delicate shape and exhausting
pace, “Heliotrope” is a tune that incites both moshing and intellectual
discourse, an unsteady and almost unheard-of combination of mind and body.
Besides providing us with some incredibly intricate compositions, Vaya is a record of this band’s complete fearlessness in pushing boundaries in their music, a factor few artists even consider, never mind wholeheartedly embody. At the Drive-In uses this EP to make some new choices and take some new turns, and while not all of them work, the fact that they had the gall to try anyways makes a bold statement about what it means to be an artist, and is the reason Josh Watkins of Heave Media labeled this EP “the last vestige of the band at full force.”[7] With Vaya, At the Drive-In throws its entire weight behind its musical movements, and whether the ship glides, rocks, or sinks, it is obvious they plan to follow their course to the very end. For all the things that this EP does hold, there is not a single trace of fear in its beats or screams, and such a silence has never sounded so good.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Heliotrope
2) 198d
3) Proxima Centauri
