Showing posts with label Garrett Tierney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Garrett Tierney. Show all posts

Friday, June 30, 2017

Brand New - Deja Entendu



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

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Album Autopsy: Brand New's Your Favorite Weapon

Disclaimer: The following piece is a super-in-depth look at one of my favorite records, and as such, it is riddled with personal opinions and praise for said record. This cannot be helped.

            When I was in high school, I was always looking for new music. In my senior year, I received a mix CD from a friend of a friend whose musical tastes apparently lined up with mine on some level. While that mix was hardcore-heavy, filled with tracks from artists such as Norma Jean, Job for a Cowboy, and Chiodos, it also featured two tracks by Brand New, specifically “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad” and “Seventy Times 7.” With my first listen, I was immediately and irrevocably hooked, and my fever was not sated until I had purchased the parent record of those tracks: Your Favorite Weapon.
            I spun that disc in my car for what was probably months, for I found myself truly connecting with every track. The pop-driven punk that Brand New was providing had me dancing with every listen, and my voice soon disappeared as I sang along to the catchy and anthem-like lyrics. And even now, when that I spin that record five years later, I am no less engrossed in every note.
            The sound of this record is steeped in fun riffs, catchy melodies, and unbridled enthusiasm. It is brimming with the energy of youth, apparent especially in the thrashing guitars, crashing drums, and vocal parts that are as much shouted as they are sung. Although relatively simple, the music that Brand New presents here is undoubtedly honest all the way through—we can listen to every member of the band beating at his instrument, tearing each note and noise from its core. Most importantly, however, is that the songs on this record can make the listener truly feel the emotions embedded within—all the pain, anxiety, and insanity of youth is vividly brought to the forefront of our minds, and in that aspect, this record truly is a formidable weapon.
            While the record as a whole is indeed powerful, that power lies rooted in the honesty and individuality inherent in each track. Every song is a powerhouse, able to stand up on its own without the support of the rest of the album. As such, a track-by-track analysis seems the best avenue for communicating my undying love for this record.


1.      The Shower Scene


            Presentation is a big factor to consider when analyzing any album, and with “The Shower Scene,” Brand New gives us a first impression that is loud, fast, and well-thought-out. The song is hard-hitting from the beginning, setting the scene for the rest of Your Favorite Weapon. But while doing so, it also asserts itself as a unique piece on the record. The song features a distortive filter on Jesse Lacey’s vocals, adding an unnatural ire to his voice as he tears up an ex-girlfriend. Furthermore, the musical aspect of the writing is filled with syncopated hits and features a unique moment for the record that showcases the band’s abilities to switch time signatures in a bridge alternating between measures of 6/8 and 7/8. When all is said and done, this tune is noisy and energetic in all the right ways, encouraging the listener to get stoked for the rest of the record.

2.      Jude Law and a Semester Abroad


            Along with “Seventy Times 7,” “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad” gave me my first exposure to Brand New, and soon convinced me to purchase the whole record. It’s a tune that gets me grooving no matter where I am, and after countless listens, I am still enamored of it.
            The first and only single released off of this record, “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad” is probably also the record’s best lyrical performance. Jesse’s vindictive vocal opens the song, stating quite clearly his complete mistrust of a girlfriend who’s going overseas, which Adam Dlugacz of Popmatters describes as “a rite of passage for any teenager.”[1] The entirety of the tune seems to demand singing along despite its angry tone and dark humor, as Jesse not-so-subtly hopes her plane will crash on the way to England.
            The song also features some explosively fun guitar work from Vincent Accardi, as well as our first exposure to the idea of vocal counterpoint, a massively thematic musical choice on the record, as Brand New combines and layers three different lyrical ideas at the close of the song. Undeniably catchy all the way through, this song asserts itself easily as one of the best on the record.

3.      Sudden Death in Carolina


            This song is a high-energy invitation into the madness of high school interaction, where words and looks are as deadly as grenades. “Sudden Death in Carolina” presents a ton of interesting and cool lyrical images. The words playfully address the life-or-death feeling that dominates our youth, as the speaker compares his relationship thoroughly to a homicide investigation in the chorus. The subject seems so desperate, yet the melody and music dispel any urgency the words attempt to relay, creating a fun and nostalgic feel to the desperation every young person feels.
            One of my favorite parts of this song is the drumming, which unfortunately seems to be buried in the mix. Brian Lane plays with conventions as he begins each phrase of the verse with a drum fill on beat one, a bold move in a style of music that relies on simplicity. He also peppers the middle of the song with syncopated snare hits and rimshots, providing further flavor to an already heated composition. “Sudden Death in Carolina” is a tune with a lot going on in it, and each listen seems always to provide a little bit more.

4.      Mix Tape


            This is a tune that stands out against the rest on the record for many reasons. Perhaps the simplest song on Your Favorite Weapon, “Mix Tape” features but two chords and one barely variated vocal part, yet it remains fascinating in its blatant juxtaposition against the sound of the record. “Mix Tape” is slow and trudging when compared to the rest of the record’s fast-paced tunes, and yet one listen asserts that it belongs nowhere else.
            “Mix Tape” sounds like a live track, featuring a notable amount of reverb on the drums and an outro that slowly descends into absolute chaos. The power of the song is not lost in the relaxed tempo, only reserved—the band seems to store this energy up behind the vocals, only to release it explosively near the end. The song structure is also different from the rest of the tunes on the record, eschewing the verse-chorus feel in favor of a more anthem-like vocal part in which Jesse salutes both his musical idols and shamelessly plugs his own band.[2] Between grooving guitar riffs and lyrics that bear a grudge, this tune is worth more than a hasty examination.  

5.      Failure by Design


            Few songs are so blatantly hateful of anything as “Failure by Design,” yet the lighthearted melody used to present that hatred makes it just as unique. This song chronicles the exhaustive agony of the process of recording, a sentiment any musician can relate to. Lyrically, it doesn’t stand out against the rest of the record, but the energy and catchiness of the chorus make the tune as adhesive as Krazy Glue, and it is simply impossible not to sing along to the “doo-doo-doo” of the bridge.   The vocals on this track are especially expressive of both the exhaustion and the enmity of the speaker of the song, as Jesse alternates between a defeated sigh and a scream torn from his core. For a tune laden with loathing, “Failure by Design” presents a damn good time.

6.      Last Chance to Lose Your Keys


            Although possibly the weakest lyrical performance, this song epitomizes the roiling ocean of high school relationships. Again, Jesse’s vocals are straightforwardly hurtful and accusatory, foreboding an imminent breakup with a girl who won’t give him the time of day, and although I’m not fond of the lyrics to this tune, I find the lines “leave your lipstick at home / Don’t pick up the phone / Don’t bother to look in my direction”[3] to be absolutely brilliant, as the speaker shuts down any possible avenue of advance from his scorned lover. A simple song all the way through, “Last Chance to Lose Your Keys” is still fun and catchy, and gets stuck in my head more often than any song from Your Favorite Weapon. The song almost seems like a pop-punk ballad with its dynamics and its culminating three-part counterpoint, which allow it to truly fit with the feel of the entire record.

7.      Logan to Government Center


            “Logan to Government Center” is the pinnacle of Brand New’s performance on this record. Musically rock-solid and lyrically inventive, it captures the youthful wish to be understood and accepted, especially by a high-school crush. Jesse’s writing abilities are truly showcased in this song, as he fine tunes both the meaning of his lyrics and the sounds embedded within. For instance, in the first verse he builds am entire progression based only on the sound of the word consider: “Consider this a letter than I never sent / However inconsiderate it seems / Do you still consider me?”[4] He further explores this idea by repeating sounds in the counterpoint of the chorus: “Nothing’s absolutely definite until it’s absolutely definitely gone.”
            Powerful, emotional, and rocking, this tune is easily my favorite from Your Favorite Weapon. The whole performance, from drums to vocals to guitars, is extremely passionate and honest. Every note is deliberate and fully reinforced in “Logan to Government Center,” giving it an oomph that far surpasses the rest of the record. Overall, this tune is one that gives me goosebumps with each listen, and one which I simply must sing along to.

8.      The No Seatbelt Song


            Though the title perhaps is a tongue-in-cheek reference to “Seventy Times 7,” any connection between “The No Seatbelt Song” and the rest of Your Favorite Weapon seems to end there. This song is of an entirely different caliber that those surrounding it, making it stand out in both positive and negative ways. It is both slower and quieter than any of the other tunes, and features Jesse singing in a lower register. The minor key, the lyrics, and the music all gently hint at a darker side to Brand New, which, like the reverb-laden (and poorly deployed) drum machine at the end of the track, makes its only appearance on the record within this song.
            While “The No Seatbelt Song” does little for me as a piece of music, it remains an important part of this record for a different reason. This tune is entirely unlike the rest of the songs on the record—it doesn’t seem to fit in the overall sound or even in the track listing. However, the fact that Brand New chose to include it, when they probably could have scrapped it or saved it for a later release, shows audacity and honesty, two things I can truly appreciate in any artist. Rather than compromising for the sake of a “sound,” Brand New chose to include “The No Seatbelt Song” on this record, and thus it belongs nowhere else.

9.      Seventy Times 7


            If “Failure by Design” expresses an extreme hatred of an idea, “Seventy Times 7” takes that hatred and gives it a real world application. Allegedly about a disagreement between Jesse Lacey and Taking Back Sunday guitarist John Nolan,[5] the lyrical content of this song is amazing in the graceful way it expresses unabashed abhorrence. Lacey is simultaneously scathing and poetic, elegantly praying for the death of his adversary from either asphyxiation or a car accident. The song is stocked with memorable lines as Jesse attacks the character of his enemy, calling him “as subtle as a brick” while claiming “I’ve seen more spine in jellyfish / I’ve seen more guts in eleven year old kids.”[6] Jesse’s emphatic vocal furthers his ire as he tears each word from the lining of his throat, screaming and shouting and even seeming to throw the microphone at the end of the recording.
            For all the anger pent up within this track, the band could not have created a catchier musical arrangement. The guitar riffs are energetic and fun, and the song holds an incomparable groove all the way through. The music couples all the force of punk rock with the carefree enjoyment of pop, seamlessly coagulating in perhaps the most sing-along-able chorus on the record.
            “Seventy Times 7” was my second exposure to Brand New, and gave me the final push to purchase a record that I’ve come to cherish. Between the inventive lyrics and the invigorated musicianship, it’s a tune that will remain embedded in my skull until I die. If you give one song from Your Favorite Weapon a chance, let it be this one—you will be hard pressed to hate it.

10.  Secondary


            “Secondary” is another ridiculously catchy song that embodies Brand New’s pop-punk feel. Between syncopated hits, alternating dynamics, and powerful melodies, there is a ton going on in this song. Garrett Tierney tears up his bass on this track, mixing high-register chords and basslines that border on walks throughout the tune, while the outro guitar riff remains one of my favorite licks on the record. The band slams this song around while remaining a tight musical unit, an idea even further expressed in the demo version of the song (from the Your Favorite Weapon reissue), which features an intro riff in 12/8.
            The beautifully constructed vocal melodies in “Secondary” are my favorite on the record. The extreme amount of fun packed into each note belies the exhausted voice of the lyrics, and the song’s themes of flirtation and confusion are brilliantly told through harmony and counterpoint. With “Secondary,” Brand New gives us a reason to celebrate our befuddled youth, to roll our windows down and shout at the top of our lungs.


11.  Magazines


            At first, “Magazines” may seem like a throwaway track on the record, something whipped up in a few hours to fill another space, and perhaps it is just that. Even so, it remains another phenomenal pop-punk piece that sticks inside the listener’s head for days. Every high schooler has a celebrity crush at one point, and apparently Jesse Lacey is no exception, as he hopelessly pines for a woman named Laetitia (possibly the French actress and model Laetitia Casta)[7]. The lyrics, while not exceptional, vividly capture the silly fantasies and ridiculous fears associated with puberty, all carried by some thrashing guitar work from Vincent Accardi. The song’s punk music and pop melodies meld into a powerhouse of exuberance, guaranteeing a good time for any listener, and assuring us that “Magazines” is definitely not a song to be thrown away.

12.  Soco Amaretto Lime


            The staple acoustic anthem, “Soco Amaretto Lime” is a simple musical piece through and through, composed of palm-muted power chords and an almost-spoken melody. Like “The No Seatbelt Song,” there is a gentle feel to this tune, and although the writing of the song isn’t much to look at, the song’s value becomes immediately apparent in that it epitomizes the sentiment built into Your Favorite Weapon. “Soco Amaretto Lime” is the voice of a high school party as much as it is the silence between two best friends. Perhaps most interesting are the backing vocals, which stand in sharp contrast to the main melody as the band sings “Everybody wake up! Wake up! Everybody / Everybody wake up! It’s time to get down!”[8]
            “Soco Amaretto Lime” is a song that bottles the feeling of infinity that surrounds every youth, looking forward to an undetermined future while wishing life could “stay eighteen forever.” There is an air of uncertainty in this song, a feeling that Brand New knows that as they close out their first full length, they too are closing a chapter of their lives, hesitantly moving into a new era. This song completes the saga of Brand New in Your Favorite Weapon—it marks their last night as kids, paying homage to the insanity, the desperation, and the vivacity that made them who they are, and thus becomes the anthem for all of us to rally around as we too take that step onto our future paths.

The cover art for the Your Favorite Weapon Reissue
            Your Favorite Weapon, while continuing to reign in my top ten albums, is a record that seems to catch a lot of flak. It is a simple record, built on punk chord progressions, an overtired song structure, and the complaints of a high school kid still dealing with his past. The fact that this record seems to have so little going on, and yet receives a generally positive response, has driven some to despise it entirely (such as in this review by Type in Stereo). In truth, Your Favorite Weapon is a simple record, but that simplicity is what makes it accessible. The honesty of Brand New is not hidden behind anything pretentious—and if the bridge of “the Shower Scene” says anything, they could be pretentious about it—instead choosing to throw themselves wholly into making music they love and music they mean. In their songs is hidden an idea that works no matter how you spin it, always succeeding in getting a crowd to their feet, undoubtedly knitting their voices into one chorus. Brand New doesn’t milk a dry concept with this record; they do what they came to do: share their music and the fun that is central to it.
            In Your Favorite Weapon, Brand New presents a photo album of high school drama that, for all the relationship rifts and angry taunts that the songs portray, is presented with a carefree and joyous attitude that seems to celebrate the sufferings of youth as rites of passage. The music is rooted in the liveliness of their teenaged years, and as such, each song seems to demand both movement and participation from the listener—there is no sitting allowed. It’s an incredible listen throughout, energetic and invigorating and thoroughly enjoyable. It is a record that continues to inspire me in my own songwriting, as I’m sure it does countless others. Furthermore, it is an affirmation that our youth, which we tend to look back on with embarrassment, is a necessary step to becoming who we are and remaining true to the path that led us there.