Spoon: Transference
Spoon: Transference
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Friday, 22, Jan 2010 01:21
Merge, out now.
What's it all about?
Spoon are scared, which may be just as worrying for the listener as it is for the band. On their seventh effort, the band look inwards and are seeking to expel some of their concerns through the medium they know best: pop music.
Who's it by?
Hailing from Austin, Texas, this four-piece have produced six albums, none of them bad. They formed back in the early 1990s and have powered on through to the new millennium, gaining plenty of plaudits along the way.
As an example...
"I'm writing this to you in reverse/Someone better call a hearse."
What the others say
"It can be a bit of a let down if you come in expecting another blockbuster like Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, but something of a revelation if you meet them halfway." Matthew Perpetua, Pitchfork.
"A deceptive, addictive album, revelling in hidden depths." Chris Roberts, BBC
So is it any good?
Spoon have a reputation for being consistent. Not one of their last six albums has been weak; some of them have been exceptional. Merging pop and rock sensibilities from an askew perspective, they have a knack for never straying too far from their formula while still sounding like no one else. Now, on their seventh album, the band have presented us with their most inscrutable and most cerebral work to date. But, no surprises, it is utterly delectable.
The signifiers (or Spoonisms, as I like to call them), which have helped the band stay such a potent force for such a prolonged period, largely remain in place. Britt Daniel's rasping vocal still resonates with charm despite its technical limitations, Jim Eno's drumming is still fresh but never overexerts itself, while piano, bass and guitar are still played with effortless precision. Is Love Forever? is perhaps most emblematic of this on Transference, with staccato strumming and the typical thump and drive that is synonymous with the group's other work.
The shift between this album and the last, however, is more noticeable than any other transition that Spoon have made in their prolific career. 2008's Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga was packed full of hooks, rousing compositions and what nearly every other LP from the Texas-based quartet has had: an obvious single. Transference is certainly devoid of the latter.
What Spoon opted to release as a pre-album launch teaser and single was Written in Reverse. Its jerky, clinking, clanging piano and guitar crunch are certainly Spoon-esque, yet there is an uneasiness that is uncharacteristic of the band. What is most concerning is the change in Daniel's focus, from the surety and coolness that were at the heart of classics like I Summon You to erratic wavering in tone and nebulous lyrics. Gone are the rousing horn sections of Underdog, no more is the swagger of I Turn My Camera Off.
The frontman's coarse tones are burning, frustrated. "I'm not standing here," he roars, before tremulously singing in falsetto, "All I know is all I know". Is Daniel getting scared as he heads into the initial stages of middle age, or just confused and angry? And looking down at the titles, one thing strikes you: these are some bleak notions under examination. I Saw The Light, Is Love Forever?, Before Destruction... you get the point. The pervasiveness of the minor key is only further proof of the disturbed nature of the work.
What Spoon achieve through this is making the listener really feel their tenseness and this is what separates this work from their other LPs. The title Transference, if it is representing the Freudian idea of passing off feelings about something or someone onto others, indicates that Spoon are placing the burden of their troubles on the listener.
However, this awkwardness surprisingly transforms into melancholy by the time we reach Goodnight Laura and Out Go The Lights, two of Spoon's most elegiac songs yet. Juxtaposed with one another towards the end of the album, they blend plaintive melody with nostalgic lines, and they are the most visceral numbers on Transference. They are less concerned with intellectually conveying ennui, more with pathos and consolation.
What provides hope from the anxieties of Transference is that Spoon are able to express frustration and worry just as well as they can bust out off-kilter rock 'n' roll gems. And though it will not be one of Spoon's more immediately appreciated records, you get the feeling it will be one of those underappreciated gems, an understated curio, that fans and perhaps others will lavish praise on in years to come.
9/10
Thomas Brewster