This has really been a breakthrough year for The National. After years of quietly putting out great records, they’re have really arrived. They’re now sitting comfortably in that elite class of top tier indie rock bands with High Violet hitting #3 on the album charts and the band selling out large-sized theatres (including legendary venues like Radio City Music Hall) across the U.S. I’ve seen the band play three festival sets, and have loved each of them but those didn’t compare to seeing the band at The Pageant, a beautiful theater in the Delmar Loop part of St. Louis. The band’s frenetic chamber rock is meant to be heard in this type of environment and they absolutely nailed their performance.
Allow me to forge a fair warning:
The Antlers’ Hospice
is not an easy record to sit through. With the right focus, in the right mindset, this album is as powerful on the soul as climbing a mountain is on the body. This album will crush you if you don’t know what to expect.
Hospice is at once the simplest and most immense album of the year.
Its music is made of small melodies, tiny vocal ranges and repeated, winking guitar lines. It is basic piano, slow-rolling drums.
But the numbers on the lock form the correct code: the combination of those simple sounds works, and through their collective, unified operation comes music that surprises, that soothes and washes over you like a mother bathing her child. It’s music that smacks you on the side of the head, but then embraces you and apologizes in tears for being so cruel.
Fanfarlo are a band that have been kicking about on the fringe of the hype machine for a while and now, after a recording session stateside in Connecticut, their debut album Reservoir is finally unleashed.
The album starts with “I’m A Pilot” which is the perfect statement of intent. The song begins with loud, confident foot stomps and progresses into a piano-led anthem- combing gently soaring violins with woeful guitar slides.
The album continues with the emotive force of the opener, the array of instruments entwining and gliding around one another, soaring into climatic peaks and falling into delicate descends.
Throughout “Reservoir”, the collection of instruments consistently chops and changes in an array of different moods and styles. The mandolin of “The Walls Are Coming Down” provides a jaunty but melancholy ditty, while the trumpets on “Fire Escape” sound like horse riding hero trotting off into the sunset.
It’s often pretty remarkable stuff. On first listen though, one criticism easily thrown at “Reservoir” is that it wears its influences pretty obviously on its sleeve. This album often takes the style of grand, swooping songs which almost always seem to be sound tracking the end of the world or the resurrection of Martin Luther King. In other words; hello Arcade Fire.



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