2008 has seen a resurgence of the “lo-fi” sound among Indie music – not surprising, considering the genre’s long-term love affair with the method. But there’s a fine line between charming roughness and cloying cash-in; for the latter, seek out Amy Winehouse, whose producers channel 60’s-era tape warmth all too frequently. For the former, look no further than Department of Eagles. Like Fleet Foxes, the Eagles bask in a delightfully crude warmth – unlike Fleet Foxes, there is nothing folksy about their debut In Ear Park. Rather, the album is haunting through and through, as if it were some lost, dust-laden tape recovered after a nuclear war. Thus, one gets the sense that the Department of Eagles have turned budgetary necessities into musical assets, invoking an amateur freshness to give their sound a dire, semi-nightmarish sheen. That approach works well for the most part on In Ear Park, rarely coming across as forced hipness or syrupy self-indulgence.
For all intents and purposes, Department of Eagles is a duo: vocalist/guitarist Daniel Rossen (formerly of the neo-folksy Grizzly Bear) and vocalist/percussionist/pianist Fred Nicolaus. Together they’ve crafted a rather intimate rock record, like two guys recording at a truck stop bathroom – and striking sonic gold. The prime reason is Park’s rather carnival-esque pulse, with disjointed, ramshackle tracks romping through dreamscapes and fiendish hallucinations. The apocalyptic quality is fairly evident throughout, as the record could just as easily serve as the soundtrack to some upcoming Danny Boyle film. All jokes aside, this characteristic serves the Eagles rather well, infusing their refrains with the kind of doomed urgency the Cold War Kids employ so effectively.
The real strength of In Ear Park comes in the belly, where the Eagles move away from bare-boned acoustic pieces and into Radiohead-like broods. “Around the Bay” starts harmless enough – until trilling voices, flutes, and broken music box clicks surge into the fray, met by faux tympanis and handclaps and a dozen other instruments pulsing in and out. With so many tools at their disposal, it’s no surprise the Eagles manage to put something like “Classical Records” together, an off-kilter traipse through analog melody. If Tim Burton remade Mary Poppins in his usual neo-Goth style, this would certainly be a feature song, with plodding piano and detuned noise hits cleaning up the back end. Standout track “Floating on the Lehigh” plays out like an epic put together with duct tape – Gershwin on acid, if you will, going from cute-n’-folksy to psychedelic crunch with smooth confidence.
Obviously, Department of Eagles are comfortable in their sound, and that poise is one of the major reasons why In Ear Park succeeds. The chilling, doomsday-evoking aura is one of sincerity and vision, not some gimmick to summon the favor of Indie critics. And so as the dreamy banjo plucks of “Balmy Night” conclude Park, listeners will know they have a keeper: a refreshing, earnest effort short on missteps and brimming with peculiarity.
October 27, 2008
