It’s good, supposedly, to stick to reviewing a record when writing a record review. That is, instead of reviewing the group’s haircuts or press materials or other reviews or behavior when they were in the bar with you that one time, it’s best just to address the record in question. I’ll let you be the judge of how well I am actually able to do this, here. The challenge is that the subject of this review is slim, pleasant-but-minor, and the subject of some buzz. (As well, as pertains to Kevchino.com, some controversy: I’ll say here that I know exactly zero members of the group reviewed here).
Alright, then: the record in question is the debut EP by new Matador starchildren Prosaics (released on Dim Mak here in the U.S.), and that EP is called Aghast Agape. It isn’t bad, and it isn’t great, but it isn’t anywhere near as interesting as the mini-furor the band has kicked up. It’s not really the band’s fault: they’re just three good-looking dudes who want to play the sort of dark, not-power-pop-but-still-basically-power-pop you hear a lot of on the new Interpol record. The whole record is five songs, fifteen minutes, and actually pretty good.
Of course, what’s kind of off-putting about it is the fact that we’ve already got a band that sounds almost exactly like this. They’re already on Matador’s roster, they’ve already been mentioned in this review, and while they’ve certainly got their own weak points – I myself am having a hard time forgiving them for all that Royal Caribbean shit on Antics – they’ve also released many songs that sound like this, and made their label quite a sum of money with those songs. And a lot of the press that I’m trying not to talk about in this review has focused pretty squarely on that similarity. I’m going to give Prosaics the benefit of the doubt, though. There’s nothing that really grabbed me about this record, but there’s certainly not much in it to dislike. At a full album’s length these songs might bloom as part of a broader statement or wilt alongside a series of carbon copies. As an EP, though, it feels kind of like going to a restaurant and ordering the same appetizer five times.
The album opening “Teeth” has a misleadingly heavy opening, spare and allusive lyrics (with an unfortunate Interpol-ish affinity for big words; although maybe I’m the only one who wouldn’t know what an “ecumenical pose” would look like) and some awkward vocal phrasings, but like all the songs on Aghast Agape, it also has momentum. “Failure” isn’t changing the game any, but it moves and Comer’s vocals are a lot more restrained – in places his tendency to put on the Brit (Ian Curtis, Robert Smith: pick your guy) comes off plain dorky. The gloomy atmospherics and Cure-style guitar fireworks of “Now The Shadow of The Column” and the urgent clatter of the jittery album-closing “Tenants” come off well, but to say that one song is much better or worse than the others misses the point. If you don’t pay much attention to Aghast Agape, as I did the first few times I heard it, your toe will probably tap throughout. Mine did. But here’s the catch: next time you listen to it, try to pay close attention. Try hard.
None of these songs sent me on an urgent, profanity-ridden search for the track-forward button. None sent me scurrying online to find their next live gig, either. That, I think, is the thing about Prosaics that gets under the skin of a certain type of critic: they’re nothing to get mad about, but the question I keep coming back to is whether or not we need an Interpol-without-the-edges when we’ve already got an Interpol-with. Those who have read my review of the new Interpol record know I’m not a huge admirer of it, or of the band’s less appealing points. (For those who haven’t read that review: I’m not a huge admirer of the record, or of the band’s less appealing points) But Interpol’s distinctive weaknesses and strengths, and really those of any interesting band, are what make them interesting. Those quirks – good and bad – are the most notable absence in Aghast Agape’s buffed darkness. The record’s a good listen, but there’s not much reason to listen to it. Or put it this way: all these songs are pretty good: all agreeable, all solidly crafted, all with a few legitimately rocking little moments. All, that is, just about interchangeable with, and indistinguishable from, one another. |