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music guy
A road map to music utopia
Welcome back everybody, how was your spring break? Wow, that sounds amazing! Body shots, you say? Awesome! Mine? Oh, well mine was pretty awesome, as well... On Saturday I drove nine hours, on Sunday I worked nine hours, and on Monday I got my wisdom teeth pulled. After the extractions of the four teeth, I spent most of my week in a massive amount of pain. That said, my break wasn't as bad as it sounds, as I had two reprieves from the pain. First, some pretty powerful prescription narcotics—which might not have made the pain go away as much as they made my brain not quite complex enough to understand it, and second, I had School of Language's debut album, Sea From Shore.
When I first got the album, I really wasn't expecting too much. Frankly, I didn't have much reason to. I'd heard good things about the band Field Music from one of my friends, and I knew that School of Language was their singer David Brewis' solo endeavor, but I didn't put too much weight on a single friend's recommendation of the same
artist's other project. Other than that, all I knew about the band was what their publicity company had sent me Language's press kit.
Generally, press kits try to make the bands look as good as possible, so when I saw the words "incessant looping" used in one of the reviews hand-picked by the label to hype the album, I wasn't sure what to think. Usually, I associate the word "incessant" with something that's annoying and unceasing. So does the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. As I mentioned earlier, I really didn't have high hopes going into this.
And so, with a complete lack of excitement, I slid the album into my car's stereo and began my drive home to Chicago from Lawrence. Immediately, sounds of Brewis voicing "aaah,""eeee" and "oooh" began looping rapidly, culminating in some sort of amalgam of sounds that could conceivably be called music. After about 15 seconds of that, I thought to myself "Yes! Incessant was totally the right word!" and switched to the radio.
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If it hadn't been such a long drive or there had been something better on the radio, my foray into Sea From Shore likely would have ended there. I would forever think my friend's taste in music sucked and I wouldn't be writing about this album today. But it was, there wasn't, her taste doesn't and I am. Convincing myself I owed it to my friend to listen to it all the way through, I popped the CD back in and braced myself. Turns out that after that first 15 seconds or so, something very interesting emerges. Sea From Shore is bookended by a quartet of songs, all named "Rockist (Part _)." two at the beginning and two at the end. Those are actually the only songs that have those looped vowels, and it actually works with the instruments that kick in after the first few seconds. Throughout the "Rockist" quartet, Brewis showcases the different musical styles on display throughout the album: from indie to progressive to alternative, from fast-paced to slow-and-mellow. You name it, there's something close (except country). There's really nothing to compare this album or its sound to, because it doesn't really stay in one genre long enough. Even so, the album doesn't strike me as schizophrenic. It's just the work of an artist who can take different concepts and create a solid, whole and well-rounded final product. The glue holding everything together, in this case, is Brewis' voice, which reminds me of Radiohead's Thom Yorke with an ability to hit low notes.
Are the loops incessant? Yes. But after the first listen they start to grow on you—the album itself is now on an incessant loop on my iPod. Does the album showcase an abundance of underlying talent? Absolutely.
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Contact the writer:
bgarmisa@kansan.com 03.27.2008 VOL.5 ISS.25 13 THE ELDRIDGE
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