
|


|

|

Band Of Horses
|
 Everything All The Time Sub Pop Records Release: 3/21/2006

   |

|
 Rated:

 Review by: Jonathan Shipley
|
|

|
If Death Cab for Cutie hasn't already put the nail in the coffin of the notion that Seattle is simply a town where grunge was born, Band of Horses is the hammer to close it up for good. Ben Bridwell and Matt Brooke (both formerly of Carissa's Wierd, a well-received group that included Sera Cahoone, who is now cutting her own teeth as a solo artist on the Pacific NW music scene and, in fact, sits in on a couple of tracks) have created an album that has some similarities to Neil Young and Iron and Wine (who have shared a label on Seattle's famed Sub Pop Records), in that it has beautiful melodies, is widely textured, uses a variety of instruments and, often times, the tunes simply soar with a majesty not often found in bands just starting to cut their teeth.
Take the best song on the album, "The Great Salt Lake," for example. It starts with a simple drumbeat with guitar at a fairly fast clip. In comes Bridwell's vocals, assured, then slows, grows into near symphony with the sonic power of it, and from there drifts in between these strong sounds with softer meditative sections to create a song that envelops the listener like a sweater on a crisp morning. The song is a microcosm of the album as a whole, in that many of the songs are mid-tempo pop songs with its Neil Young homage, added with slower layered tear-stained songs. In fact, Band of Horses is the Northwest version of Kentucky's My Morning Jacket, whose fourth album, Z, has been a critical and financial success. This success should come before too long to Band of Horses as well.
And why not? "Weed Party" is perfect to play on the stereo out the back deck during a summer barbecue. "Monsters" is a slow moving song replete with banjo plucking. "St. Augustine" is a soft short tune, wistful, like a musical peck on the check, while "Wicked Gil" is like a musical version of a brash guy at that same summer barbecue trying to hit on your friend in the kitchen. That's what Everything All The Time is, perhaps, a sonic summer barbecue with different musical threads flowing through it, different stories and themes, all coalescing on the back deck, cold beer nearby. |
|
|

|
|

|
|