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“There’s too many artists, too much hype and not enough genius.”
Those lines are taken from the bridge of the opening track on The Black and White Years’ latest release Patterns, and it seems to quantify every notion that contemporary skeptics have about today’s musical climate. Bands get hyped and they fizzle out after a descent debut only to end up swallowing Soco-lime shots at the end of the bar in the Brooklyn Bowl like Neon Indian is probably doing right now. (Just kidding NI, I love you.) The odds of success in today’s indie monsoon are bleak (is anyone really expecting a second great album out of Surfer Blood?) which is why this reviewer finds it strange that Scott Butler, lead “Year”, writer and vocalist, preludes Patterns with such a disclaimer. A jittery confidence can only get you so far in the world of 80’s inspired indie rock, and if Patterns‘ obtuse and deep synth-laden exterior didn’t gleam with such a shiny, well-produced veneer, I doubt Butler would have sounded so bold only a couple of minutes into the band’s second LP.
The production quality on “Patterns” is extraordinary. The Years, while always using technology and technique to their advantage seem to have dipped into an endless well of synthesizers and drum machines, reverbs, echoes, delays, and all kinds of other sonic paraphernalia. Lead single “Up!” delicately slides down a glistening slant into electro-pop nostalgia, and instantly the listener is there in the middle of a warm digital swath. Likewise, the lyrically-lackluster “Animal Behaviors” is somewhat redeemed by growling bass and harrowing atmospherics.
Not until “Perfect”, “Luck and Timing”, and “The Quintessential Twenty Something” — all back to back — do we find a Black and White Years worth talking about and worth hyping over: all overly-obsessive and danceable, just like we like ‘em. But just as complexity has its charms, more so does simplicity, and the Years seem to fall awkwardly in between those two poles on elongated, extra-beat measures and frenetic melodies. “Perfect,” however, shows that the Years are equally capable of static revelry as they are dynamism.
It’s when the Years are trying too hard to be themselves that they stumble. “Silence is Our Medicine” and title track “Patterns” sound like complacent, formulaic exercises on how to write and sound like the quintessential synth-rock band. We know the Black and White Years can make this kind of music, but it’s what they do with that knowledge that’s brought them successes in the past, not how well they can concentrate it.
The bottom line is if you are a die-hard Black and White Years fan and can’t get enough of Scott Butler’s angular vocal styling, his semi-awkward fixed gaze in concert, and the band’s penchant for Human League-esque New Wave pop, then you will love this album. It still sizzles live and is entirely danceable. (I found myself getting down to the B&WY back in the summer when they played the One World Theatre.) But if you found yourself a little confounded at their progressive lack of steam following their astounding debut, then you might be feeling otherwise. There’s enough redeemable material on Patterns — refer to album closer “Promises” and the existentialist “Cold” — to render it a success, but it seems the Black and White Years have hard wired themselves into the 80s dance craze, amid the all the other artists and all the endless hype.
Mp3 from Patterns
Up!
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the line is “too much art and not enough genius.”