IN REVIEW: Modest Mouse - "Strangers to Ourselves"
The foremost band that comes to mind in this context, for me anyway, is Nirvana; it's hard to imagine a world where Smells Like Teen Spirit never happened, but we do it anyway. We like to tell ourselves that Kurt Cobain may have never ended his life, that Nirvana would have kept making edgy, interesting records to this day. We ponder whether The White Stripes might still be toiling on the ragged fringes if Seven Nation Army hadn't smashed the way it did.
When Modest Mouse hit the proverbial jackpot with Float On in 2004, it marked a clear and undeniable period in the paragraph of their story. However, as much as a big hit can adjust the trajectory of a band's career, it's difficult to imagine their sound turning out much different than it has while listening to Strangers to Ourselves. Maybe it's because they've just been too stubborn to allow success to change them too much, or maybe it's because Float On elected to drag the mainstream kicking and screaming to Modest Mouse rather than drag Modest Mouse kicking and screaming to the mainstream.
Whatever the case, Good News for People Who Love Bad News got them the attention they deserved, which also meant that follow-up We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank got them a pun-intended boat load of scrutiny. Though a little long (as is a common occurrence on Modest Mouse records), We Were Dead showed that they were still capable of writing great songs and still hungry to explore (and break down, if necessary) the boundaries of their sound.
Eight years later, Strangers to Ourselves (subtitled The Golden Casket Vol. I, which ensures I'll be reviewing them again sooner rather than later) shows the band in much the same head space. Modest Mouse doesn't need your permission or forgiveness, and they've clearly made the record they intended to make. That said, some experiments work better than others.
Approaching the record chronologically, Strangers to Ourselves' title track starts us off in a subdued, unassuming fashion. As a welcome back it feels slight, and as an intro it feels a little drawn out. It's also rendered pretty much forgotten by the following pair of tracks; lead single Lampshades on Fire might have been lambasted by fans for sounding like a typical Modest Mouse single, but it's the only thing on this record that really stood much of a chance as lead single. That said, once you get over yourself about how this band is supposed to approach singles, Lampshades on Fire is a great one. Shit in Your Cut, meanwhile, is a dark and dense track, a lumbering, lazy beast with slightly sinister intent (part of which is, apparently, eliciting alliteration).
Perhaps it's the sequencing playing tricks on me, but placing a highly experimental track like Pistol (A. Cunanan, Miami, FL. 1996) so early on the album and immediately after two fantastic songs puts it at a bit of a disadvantage, and the song doesn't do itself any favors. It's the most divisive song on the record, and with good reason; the thumping beat, the obnoxious noises and the heavy pitch effects on Isaac Brock's vocal make it hard to find the song's merits unless taken into the context of its production, which is handled by frequent Ween producer Andrew Weiss (although the other song he produced on the record, The Ground Walks, with Time in a Box, is one of the best and most straightforward MM songs on here, so there goes that theory). No matter what you think of it, it's the kind of song they could have easily issued as a B-side or bonus track and no one would have said "how was this not on the album?"
Pistol is an even more heinous offence when followed directly by Ansel, the album's most affecting, emotional moment. An account of the untimely death of his step brother in 2004, it finds Brock lamenting "you can't know the last time that you'll ever see another soul". Typically cryptic and poetic, it's heartbreaking to hear him sing something so (relatively) direct. It's not the most beautiful song on the record (that honor goes to the lush waltz Coyotes), but it's a touching, aching tribute.
My biggest grievance with the album can be summed up by the three tracks that start its second half; though not a glaringly bad song, Pups to Dust is also not really remarkable in any way. In fact, when looking at the track list after a half dozen or so spins, I couldn't remember what the thing even sounded like. Taken by itself it's fine enough, it just doesn't leave an impact in the context of the album. Again, this could be a sequencing issue, as it's followed by the completely memorable Sugar Boats, which finds the band in full-on carnival mode. It screams for attention, but it seems to be overcompensating for the song itself, which kind of just plods along among the squeaking horns and elastic guitars. Wicked Campaign takes yet another left turn, its processed beat and clean palm-muted rhythm guitar threatening to explode into a Kings of Leon single at any moment. It doesn't, but that may have been preferable to going through the motions the way it does. No muss, no fuss, three and a half minutes in and out.
Thankfully, the album is rescued by Be Brave; a thick and seething rumination on our relationship to the planet ("just a bit more piss to push out its full bladder"), the track is easily my favorite on the record from a lyrical standpoint. An interlude follows (God is an Indian and You're an Asshole, a great title but a meaningless song) before The Tortoise and the Tourist and The Best Room, a pair of tracks that take us down the home stretch in strong fashion and continue the common theme of mankind and its reckless treatment of its home. The former criticizes our prioritization of material gain over intellectual gain, while the latter chastises "these western concerns" while lamenting a dilapidated world that we ignored in favor of the never-ending party. The hangover follows as the album closes with the thoughtful, measured Of Course We Know, which is interesting enough and has a nice build up of tension but is certainly more denouement than finale.
Strangers to Ourselves ends up being a few edits shy of brilliance, even as it provides a mostly engaging listening experience and sparking equal parts excitement and trepidation for the promised "partner" album that's being worked on as we speak. It's also kind of like its cover (a mobile home park in Mesa, Arizona if you were wondering); very striking and alluring from a distance, but a bit crowded (and lonesome?) with a few questionable design choices. There are lots of pools and tennis courts, though, so at least you'll have a good time while you ponder what all of it is for.
March 17, 2015 • Epic
Highlights Lampshades On Fire • The Ground Walks, With Time in a Box • Be Brave
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