There
are few records that are held in such high regard as Brand New’s sophomore
release, Deja Entendu. Over a decade
and a half since its release, fans and critics alike still take to the mountaintops to shout their praise, and the sheer amount of
astronaut tattoos in my circle of friends alone really brings home how many
people lose their minds over this album. Despite my already well-documented love affair with Brand New’s first album, this record somehow managed to
elude my ears until this year. And after two months of straight, repeat
listening, although I can’t say I’m in love, never ever EVER have I found a
whole record so completely stuck in my head.
There
is absolutely a weight to Deja Entendu,
a palpable power that exudes from this record that I still can’t quite put my
finger on. In a big departure from their previous work, Brand New takes a more
post-hardcore tack for their sound, exploring slower tempos, spacey guitar
tones, and quiet brooding vocal lines, pulling away from their peers at the time to “do their own thing.” While there is no lack of their signature pop
sensibility, Brand New’s focus this time is getting the emotion of each piece across,
the band largely stepping back to let frontman Jesse Lacey bare his bleeding
heart for every listener. Indeed, songs like “Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don’t” and “Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis” feature just Jesse for long
stretches of time, while for the soulful acoustic closer “Play Crack the Sky” (also
Jesse’s favorite piece), the spotlight belongs entirely to him.
The
presence that is Jesse Lacey truly dominates this record, and with good reason.
He has an extremely dynamic vocal range, slipping between mumbles and shouts in
“Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades” and full-on screaming in “The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows.” Jesse uses his vocals like a weapon—he yanks every
inch of expression from each note; he hones the honesty in his voice until his
vocal cords are bloody. And the band works to provide Jesse with virtually
every possible template for working his voice, threading a ton of dynamic
changes into the instrumentation; both “Guernica” and “Sic Transit Gloria…” collect
their verses into soft, almost trudging beats that suddenly burst into
loud’n’fast choruses, coupling Jesse’s emotional release with that of the
crowds of kids dying to slam-dance and shout along.
No
matter which way I approach this record, I have a hard time not hearing Deja Entendu as “The Jesse Lacey show,” simply because his input is so
viscerally truthful and yet intellectually intricate. This is especially true
of the lyrics flowing from his pen, which deftly blend his mind, heart, and
voice into one. Jesse largely avoids rehashing or working idioms, instead
opting to create completely original images that are incredibly vivid. “The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows” lets us watch as a marriage collapses: “I contemplate the day we wed / …your veil is ruined in the rain / by then, it’s you I can do without,” while we get to hear Jesse himself collapse from
exhaustion in “Guernica” with the lines “Is this the way a toy feels when its batteries run dry? / I am the watch you always wear but you forget to wind.”
He even uses brevity to extreme effectiveness in the opener “Tautou,” featuring
the two simple lines “I’m sinking like a stone in the sea / I’m burning like a bridge for your body,” yet creating a whole world of feeling with his
varied deliveries.
One
major theme running through the lyrics on Deja
Entendu seems to be the struggles of being a touring band. According to
drummer Brian Lane, the sound of the record is a result of the band “being in close quarters 24 hours a day” while on tour, a situation that can certainly
create significant strain. Yet worse is the demand to provide an honest and
energetic experience every night onstage, an idea Jesse dissects in “I Will Play My Game Beneath the Spin Light,” in which he laments the experience of
baring his soul: “Watch me as I cut myself wide open on this stage / yes, I am paid to spill my guts.” Similarly, in “Sic Transit Gloria…” he comments
on the strange experience of having your youthful thoughts and aspirations
analyzed by rabid fans and harsh critics: “The act becomes the art of growing up.” Deja Entendu tears
down the film of glory from musicianship, questioning how an artist can remain
truly honest when they have to appear as much every single night for months and
months, and whether that honesty itself becomes part of the act.
Though
his lyrics might make it out to be a significant struggle, to me, Jesse has no
problem sounding sincere on Deja Entendu.
His energetic performances and vivid wording provide the listener a window into
his deepest thoughts and emotions; he leaves absolutely nothing out. But
unfortunately for the record, the rest of the band appears to have a hard time
catching up to him. While the instrumentation certainly works for the record,
many songs seem to feature a distinct lack of vitality on the band’s part.
Brian Lane hits his crash cymbals more often with apathy than with emphasis,
and his opening beat for “Good to Know that if I Ever Need Attention All I Have to Do Is Die” might as
well be drummed with pencils. Similarly, guitarist Vincent Accardi spends far
more time simply doubling Jesse’s rhythm chords than creating any harmonies or putting
the remaining space to good use.
Even
some of the song structures feel sewn or thrown together, with the band giving
little to no thought to transitions, flow, or feel; the verse in “Sic Transit
Gloria…” feels almost like a separate song from the chorus, while the coda for
“Okay I Believe You...” introduces a lackadaisical syncopation only to peter out
on an off-beat. It’s not that the other members of Brand New aren’t present on Deja Entendu, but many of their
contributions seem to lack oomph, perhaps a result of most of the songs being
written by Jesse “on [an] acoustic guitar in [his] bedroom.”
My
criticism of the instrumental performances on Deja Entendu arises from the fact that there is one tune in which
Brand New leaves out absolutely nothing from their performance: the monstrously
emotional “Jaws Theme Swimming.” The composition here is uncompromising, the
band waltzing through a 6/8 trance featuring jazzy fingerpicking and Lacey’s
darkly brooding vocal, before bursting into a chorus that is pure heaviness and
feeling. Brian Lane literally beats the crap out of his drum set, throwing
forceful fills under Accardi’s phasey solo and smashing his cymbals with the
grinding guitar chords. Jesse screams into the ether, delivering the chorus lines
“And you take / ‘cause the give / though I love you / and my body it leaks like a sieve” like they are his last words, while Garrett Tierney’s somber
and moving outro bassline brings the band to rest with a final thump. Brand New
spares not an iota of energy, emotion, or sincerity for any second of “Jaws
Theme Swimming;” this tune is an unrelenting cacophony of sentiment that proves
the band so damn capable, and it’s a shame that they fails to harness this on
virtually any other piece for Deja
Entendu.
Though
I might take umbrage with some of the performances, at the day’s end, I
completely understand why this record resonates so deeply with so many people.
Even if the whole band doesn’t back it, there is a violently honest core to Deja Entendu which resonates deeply
across all eleven tracks. As Jesse puts it, with Deja the band wasn’t “trying to break new ground,” but only
“to make good music,” and in this they’ve absolutely succeeded. I truly
believe that if this record had made its way to a fourteen-year-old me, I too
would be sporting one of the most iconic album covers ever somewhere on
my body, and if this record continues to grow on me as it already has, perhaps
I still may.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Jaws Theme Swimming
2) Guernica
