All too
often, artists who attempt to redefine music fall short of true innovation, as
their focus on the technical, you’ve-never-heard-this-before aspects invariably
leaves no room for true, human connection with the medium. The acts that revolutionize
music are those who converge on pure expression, and since my first listen, I’ve
always found Silversun Pickups’ Carnavas
to be such an endeavor. Their choice to equalize the sound of their music with
the “feeling” of it imbues the record with a sense of connection and humanity I
have rarely encountered since.
Much of
the composition on this album is relatively simplistic, with general dynamics
and only one song outside of 4/4 time, but Silversun Pickups layers much
complex thinking over this modest foundation. Chris Guanlao’s drums and Nikki
Monninger’s bass form a rhythmic template of sorts, over which Brian Aubert and
Joe Lester layer gritty, atmospheric chords and voluminous melodies. Both these
players seem to blend and interchange, a fact that is driven by Aubert’s
penchant for using his guitar “as a texture and less as a guitar in itself.”
Indeed, the combination of guitar and keyboards is so thick and vibrant that,
according to Aubert, “on Carnavas…sometimes
we didn’t know quite what was happening.”[1] Mixed with its simplistic
roots, this focus on making the instruments come together as one cohesive,
amalgamated sound gives this record a very unique and unified feel that many acts
reach for but few attain.
The sound
of Carnavas is at once empty and
full; at times a colossus of sound storms through the speakers, while at others
the ears must strain to hear the faintest notes. Unlike most other bands I’ve
heard, Silversun Pickups relies often on the idea of negative space in music,
and this record is no exception. Songs like “Checkered Floor” and “Rusted
Wheel” feature sparse composition and quiet dynamics, allowing the spaces
between notes to speak as loudly as the notes themselves. Similarly, “Three
Seed” (a song that has me so enamored I had written a spotlight piece on it),
despite featuring all four musicians, is void of complicated riffing or even a
raised voice. This center on silence in a record is both unique and
fascinating, and allows us to access the heavy emotions dripping from Silversun
Pickups’ music by filling that space with our own meaning and experience.
While
Silversun Pickups is ostensibly solid as a unit, one member takes the music of
this band to a higher level. Joe Lester seems to have an almost omniscient
understanding of his instrument and the millions of ways in which it can be
employed. His rhythmic chords create layers of environment in each song, and
his manipulation of samples and sounds completes the spacey, shoegaze-y feel that
Carnavas explores. Though most of the
time his keys maintain the ambience of the song, Lester is hardly afraid to
tear through intricate solos and poignant melodies when given the chance. In
tunes like “Future Foe Scenarios,” his pieces drive the song forward, complementing
Aubert’s vocals and filling the ear when they drop out, and soaking each piece
in waves of emotion and honesty.
Just as
Joe Lester stands out as the most colorful contributor to Silversun’s sound, in
my opinion, there is one member whose involvement really holds that sound back.
While drummer Chris Guanlao’s beats are loaded with syncopation, he seems to
fulfill his rhythmic role in the most basic manner possible. His performances
on Carnavas lack either energy or
life, and his complete avoidance of variation, improvisation, or enthusiasm
makes his percussion as effective and meaningful as a drum machine. The only
moment where he comes to life lies at the end of “Melatonin” when he slams his
foot down on the kick drum, a moment that makes that song explode and proves he
is capable of bringing intensity and innovation to his instrument. While Chris
Guanlao certainly fulfills his obligation as drummer for Silversun Pickups, his
lackadaisical and uninventive execution of that obligation leaves him as the
weakest link on this record.
The simple
but sensitive sound of Silversun Pickups is pervaded by honesty and emotion,
creating a reflective backdrop for Brian Aubert’s vocals. Aubert takes vivid imagery
and expels it in alternating screams and whispers, soaking every syllable in
the rage, the sadness, and the excitement roiling inside him. He takes on a
sinister tone in “Waste It On” as he declares “Let’s start making / Maps out of
all the dead skin,”[2]
while in “Lazy Eye,” he wraps both excitement and trepidation around the line “I’ve
been waiting for this silence all night long / It’s just a matter of time.”[3] Much of his lyrics read
like poetry, such as the lines “motorcade of ‘meant-to-be’s” and “present tense…strangled
in the mire / Made of our cozy decomposing wires” from “Future Foe Scenarios.”[4] Aubert’s writing prowess leads
each tune on Carnavas to victory
while translating the humanity in the composition into something we can digest
with our minds as well as our hearts.
Though
some songs are inherently sturdier than others (“Little Lover’s So Polite” was
apparently abandoned twice before being haphazardly assembled in the studio[5]), Carnavas as a whole is a record both delightful and insightful. Silversun
Pickups’ exploration of textures in the treble range is fascinating and fun,
and they present tunes that are heartfelt in almost every manner possible.
Their focus on the “feeling” of music, both emotional and physical, is one of
the inspirations for the music of Hiss the Villain, and continues to lead me in
my own sonic explorations.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Three Seed
2) Melatonin
3) Checkered Floor
