Friday, September 23rd 2011
Reviews: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
The Ghosts Of Indie Past: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Return With ‘Hysterical’
For a brief period of time in 2005, spilling into 2006, right when the music blogosphere began to take off, five guys who met at tiny Connecticut College stole the attention of every music blogger, scene-ster, and indie rocker out there. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s eponymous debut album was a magical, frenetically-paced, and self-released indie rock masterpiece. Drawing comparisons to The Talking Heads, CYHSY were thrust to the front of the class and held up as not only heirs to the throne of new wave, but also an example of the dawn of a new age in the music industry business model. Frontman Alec Ounsworth – he of the distinctively quirky voice and maddeningly catchy guitar riffs – was painted by some writers as an enigma and artistic sage, choosing to forego millions in the name of musical freedom and integrity.
In January 2007, CYHSY released Some Loud Thunder and, although it got its share of acclaim, it fell flat with the listening public. Ounsworth and company miscalculated on that sophomore effort, which some pundits described as “experimental” or “uneven.” The album did anything but live up to expectations. The band eventually announced a temporary break in 2009, playing a handful of additional shows before ceding the stage to the band members’ various solo and side projects.
On Hysterical - CYHSY’s third album – the band harkens back to the sound that garnered it acclaim and legions of fans back in the day, now six years removed from catching lightning in a bottle. On a handful of tracks, the band’s distinctive sound manifests itself, although poppier and less edgy than before. But nearly half the album stands in sharp contrast – slow, plodding, and introspective. Sure, that’s Ounsworth’s voice, but neither his sharp tongue nor tone strike a chord during those tunes and make for an inconsistent listen.
Opener Same Mistake goes from zero to 100 in no time, taking the audience along for the ride whether they like it or not, as Ounsworth’s soaring, quirky voice questions why he just can’t resist temptation. Amidst the sea of lyrical references to failing to heed the wisdom of experience, he asks, “where’s the action?”, unable to help himself and diving back into the fray once again.
The title track keeps the pace and lives up to its billing with Ounsworth hallucinating “here comes the newest apparition to set fire to all the flowers.” After a short keyboard intro, the band explodes forward, soaring guitars driving the chorus and dancing around drummer Sean Greenhalgh’s relentless beat, backed by a fuzzed-out bass line and key effects.
Misspent Youth is an odd pick for the number three slot, slower paced with dreamlike guitars and keys accompanied by warbling, almost garbled lyrics, causing the album to lose considerable momentum. On a song much better fit for later in the course of the record, Ounsworth mocks another’s sense of entitlement: “I’m driving drunk in daddy’s car. I won’t spoil the ending.”
Amping it back up to a furious pace, Maniac is a cacophony of sounds racing for an unyielding three minutes. Driving guitars spliced with trippy keyboards and Ounsworth’s yearning voice approaching a fever pitch, this is the frontman’s songwriting and vocal work at its finest, allowing a song to live up to its title. Ounsworth plays a convincing psych patient, seeking “some way out of the silent film I’ve been livin’ in,” but you can hear him questioning who’s really crazy: the patient or the institution?
The album’s mood again takes a turn with its most bipolar song Into Your Alien Arms. Starting with another soundscape of keys and strumming guitars with Ounsworth’s droning voice lilting over everything, forging into an odd, synth-filled, Enya-esque bridge, followed by dreamy fuzz guitar and feedback delight reminiscent of Smashing Pumpkins’ Drown. This two-plus minute grunge outro saves Into Your Alien Arms from the merciless next track button.
On In A Motel, CYHSY breaks it down even further, with the keys providing a symphonic effect accompanied by the slow strumming of an acoustic guitar, and Ounsworth’s airy voice soars above with his usual lyricism. The song is downright melancholy and emotionally draining, speaking of apparitions of lost relatives: “But the ghost that comes ‘round here is a dead ringer for her. I see her in my nightmares, discussing literature with her hands around my neck.”
An acoustic guitar and snare drum beat kick off Yesterday, Never, as the album’s tempo starts to return to normal. Unfortunately, what is probably some interesting electric and acoustic guitar interplay in the song’s second half is drowned out by an onslaught of unnecessary synth effects (we have one The Killers, and that’s more than enough). The barrage of quieter material then returns with Idiot’s dreamy effects-laden vocals, slow beat, and keyboard effects and Siesta (For Snake)’s light, airy, 80′s feel.
The theme of introspection and exploration persist on Ketamine and Ecstasy, which is a wildly paced song right in CYHSY’s wheelhouse and wreaking of the Talking Heads. “Have I become a stranger to this country?” Ounsworth asks, “Was there ever even any country at all?”, questioning his place amongst his fellow citizens and what this country stands for – questions not uncommon in modern day America. Similarly themed is The Witness’ Dull Surprise, which starts off as another turn to the dour sound that is all too prevalent on Hysterical, but eventually Greenhalgh’s violent drum roll kicks in, driving another frenetic exploration of self-identity laced with some of the album’s more entrancing vocal harmonies and Ounsworth asking, “is it strange I no longer see the hand in front of my face?”
Hysterical closes with Adam’s Plane, another slow burner and an uninspiring mish-mash of piano work and trippy guitars, with Ounsworth lamenting the loss of a friend in a (maybe literal, maybe figurative) plane crash. And, although the song eventually builds in tempo, it’s an all too boring end to an album that has some very high points, but also some very low ones.
Hysterical is a bipolar album, which isn’t surprising considering the references to hysteria and mania, inability to learn from one’s mistakes, disillusionment and soul-searching. At times, CYHSY captures the magic that brought them to the forefront of indie rock just six years ago, only to let it slip away by interjecting less energetic tracks that can’t keep pace with the dance-worthy tunes that this band is capable of producing. The album’s unevenness is disappointing, but in a different sense than Some Loud Thunder. Hysterical is a very listenable album, but CYHSY is unable to maintain momentum from song to song.
