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Un-rested On Its Own Shoulders

Seattle’s sound has nursed itself back to health over the past two decades thanks in part to its grinding regret. It’s recovered from an industry that tore itself apart demanding to get a piece of the scene - albeit a bit funny and with a limp. Its punk / to grunge / to indie pop revolution has recently landed scene mainstays like Modest Mouse, Death Cab For Cutie and more recently Band of Horses as the incumbents. But as I’m sure Mat Brooke can tell you, everyone wants a piece of the sound. See, he used to be a part of Band of Horses, but for the past two years has flirted with other incarnations fairing little fanfare. Fast forward almost two years and he’s finally landed comfortably with his self titled debut under the Grand Archives moniker. Thanks in large part to heavy internet rotation, and in part to the recent popularity for Band of Horses, the six degrees of press have spilled onto Brooke’s doorstep. Hype train be damned though, the album is bitterly bashful.

One spin thru Grand Archives and you get the sense that Brooke likes his old record stores. As if burrowing thru an LP bin, he shuffles across samplings from the The Beach Boys to Buffalo Springfield with little worry - blowing off the settled dust from these post sunshine, pre invasion mash-ups. In doing so, Grand Archives actually pay less homage by relying instead on nary modifying its sound resulting in mixed outcomes. Leadoff no-fuss ‘Torn Blue Foam Couch’ proves the band can ballad and pop without the BoH bellowing, but its gentler side is more fitting on duet swayer ‘Swan Matches’. The haunting echoes overused by the aforementioned though begin to show their wear by building number ‘Sleepdriving’. If only every track had the energy and fun of ‘The Crime Window’; where the jugs flow freely of whisky, drowned only by foot stomps that shake the earth beneath you. One begins to feel this is what Brooke had in mind when he laid down Grand Archives; his very own Muddy Waters romp.

But it’s the swampy sounds and all-to-simple makeup of snoozers ‘George Kaminski’ and creepy yet oddly slick ‘Breezy No Breezy’ that show this is a band still trying to find the sound - not just its sound. Archives is hampered with a constant momentum to carry them far away from their pasts. In doing so Brooke and company only generate more distance from what actually works. The Band nod of ‘Louis Riel’ feels all too anxious when stacked next to the twang of its partner tracks like ‘A Setting Sun’. This isn’t to dilute Grand Archives otherwise grandiose production. Every guitar slide or blazing horn - even the bend of chimes seem to be done so with the utmost care and flair. Laid thick with its layers of harmonicas, whistling and pianos, Grand Archives know how to make anything larger than its parts with smarts. And in the end, it’s what banks the album from drowning in its clouded waters of confusion. Far from what we expected and all too hesitant, Archives will still appeal to any supporter of those mentioned above. We only wish that the band was as sure of themselves as their target audience.

Sean Kendall