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The Sundays / Static and Silence
by Will Golightly
Static and Silence is The Sundays' third album in seven years. While this sort of erratic output should undermine the efforts of any band to create a niche, The Sundays have good credit in the music world based on their debut album, Reading, Writing and Arithmetic, and the possibility of another record as strong from start to finish makes any release noteworthy. The bad news, if you haven't guessed, is that this is not a repeat of past greatness. The Sundays have charm in spades, which is no small accomplishment in an increasingly faceless pop world. At one time they played good songs, too; unfortunately, Static and Silence attempts to get by on charm alone. Only occasionally is one reminded of what made them so great in the first place. The chorus of "Homeward" harkens back to the subtle shadings of texture they once achieved regularly. Drummer Patrick Hannan does not lay down a beat so much as give distinctive accents to the songs. Perhaps his performance on the new album shows the band's only improvement. The best that can be said of bassist Paul Brindley is that he avoids making too much noise. The eternally youthful Harriet Wheeler's voice still defines the band's sound. For the first time, however, her voice sounds too old for the words. These lyrics wouldn't survive a high school poetry workshop. For every good lyric ("I'd love to stay but I think I'm off to Japan") there are mountains of bad ones: all of "Cry," all of "Folk Song," all of ... The most scorn must be saved for guitarist David Gavurin. The precision and sparseness he once displayed are in short supply here. On RW&A Gavurin expanded the conceptions of what can be done with pop guitar; only a handful of people from the last twenty years deserve such credit. The Sundays' debut album was a textbook on filling space with as few notes as possible. He layered sparse guitar lines atop one another until a song (every song) seemed to climax under its own emotional weight. The new songs have slightly less emotional impact than the latest Spice Girls single. There isn't a surprising note anywhere on Static and Silence. The textures created by the guitars have lost all sense of identity and intimacy. Where the melodies were once fresh and lilting, they now waver coldly. The few sparkling moments do not make up for the bland songs. Nor do they rescue the stale lyrics ... nor the absurd horns ... nor the tired string arrangements. On a brighter note, a few listens to the new record make the spotty second album, Blind, seem pretty damn good. The production of RW&A understatedly kept the three instruments from stepping on each other; each had a striking individual identity, adding up to a coherent whole. RW&A's "Here's Where the Story Ends," a poor choice for a single, mislead many people into believing The Sundays were a "strumming band." The band may be growing into that misconception, however. On Blind the band attempted to create a fuller sound, most succesfully realized on the should-have-been-a-single "Goodbye." Their devastating version of "Wild Horses" reaffirmed that new life can be breathed into a classic. Nevertheless, the album as a whole sounds like a failed experiment. Static and Silence, on the other hand, attempts nothing new while avoiding past successes. The guitar figures are too slight to create emotion and the bass is forgettable. The melodies go nowhere slowly and the lyrics are laughable. Local stations have played Static and Silence's first single a bit over the last couple of weeks. "Summertime" has a playful sound not heard before, but one can't deny expecting to hear a tired hip-hop beat when the drums come in. Once again, charming but stale. For once the Sunday's introductory single to a new album will have a positive effect: Static and Silence will soon be forgotten. After many listens one may begin to overlook these problems and focus on the few nice moments (add Wheeler's falsetto on "Folk Song" among those mentioned above). Don't bother. |
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Will Golightly is waiting for the Sundays version of Wang, Dang, Sweet Poontang by Ted Nugent.