You & Me (2008, Gigantic) The Walkmen's fourth studio album. ****1/2
Sincerity is never easy to convey, even when the effort on all fronts completely is. If there's any problem that the Walkmen don't have, it's struggling to communicate their sincerity. You & Me - as it could not possibly be more aptly named - is the Walkmen's most striking album, an arrow that pierces and is impossibly lodged. Walter Martin's signature voice, a mix of Bob Dylan and Stevie Marriott, completes this album in a way nothing else possibly could. Its themes are excellently rendered by easily decipherable lyrics, and that's not a knock; the relatively straightforward matter that Martin delivers with only increases the force with which the music already hits. You & Me is one of the most upfront albums of its kind, showcasing a relationship we never get the details of but can strangely identify with. On top of that, the themes of holidays and travel are equally recognizable.
"Red Moon" is one of the album's more somber moments, with a stagnant horn arrangement and moments of silence followed by a vocal wrap-up echoes the styles of songs like "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. The no-tempo "New Country" serves as what could have been the perfect ending for such a near-perfect album, with its growing intensity of only guitar tracks. But the actual ending is possibly more satisfying, as the Walkmen drop lines like "My head is full of dreams, it's nothing new/But maybe dreaming is all a man can do." Not to mention Paul Maroon's subtle yet brilliant guitar solo.
Easily the finest moment is "In the New Year," with a gut-wrenching organ piece, whose climbing riff struggles so hard to keep up with the tempo, is only topped when Martin's seemingly unstoppable tenor vocal range continually soars higher, laying down hurricane lyrics like "I'll tell you I love you/And my heart's in the strangest place/That's how it started/And that's how it ends." Barrick's pummeling yet dreamy percussion arrangement only help the song to sway carefully like the open path Martin sings of.
On You & Me, the Walkmen have opened up another plane on emotion, as their transparency never feels contrived, instead it shows their vulnerability as human beings. Truly one of the better albums of 2008, You & Me is not an album that can be appreciated after one listen; it's the kind of diamond in the rough that teases you, taunts you, and intrigues you just enough to go on to a successive listen, and with each one it reveals itself until all the skeletons are out of the closet. (In the New Year, Canadian Girl, New Country, If Only It Were True)
Sincerity is never easy to convey, even when the effort on all fronts completely is. If there's any problem that the Walkmen don't have, it's struggling to communicate their sincerity. You & Me - as it could not possibly be more aptly named - is the Walkmen's most striking album, an arrow that pierces and is impossibly lodged. Walter Martin's signature voice, a mix of Bob Dylan and Stevie Marriott, completes this album in a way nothing else possibly could. Its themes are excellently rendered by easily decipherable lyrics, and that's not a knock; the relatively straightforward matter that Martin delivers with only increases the force with which the music already hits. You & Me is one of the most upfront albums of its kind, showcasing a relationship we never get the details of but can strangely identify with. On top of that, the themes of holidays and travel are equally recognizable.
"Red Moon" is one of the album's more somber moments, with a stagnant horn arrangement and moments of silence followed by a vocal wrap-up echoes the styles of songs like "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. The no-tempo "New Country" serves as what could have been the perfect ending for such a near-perfect album, with its growing intensity of only guitar tracks. But the actual ending is possibly more satisfying, as the Walkmen drop lines like "My head is full of dreams, it's nothing new/But maybe dreaming is all a man can do." Not to mention Paul Maroon's subtle yet brilliant guitar solo.
Easily the finest moment is "In the New Year," with a gut-wrenching organ piece, whose climbing riff struggles so hard to keep up with the tempo, is only topped when Martin's seemingly unstoppable tenor vocal range continually soars higher, laying down hurricane lyrics like "I'll tell you I love you/And my heart's in the strangest place/That's how it started/And that's how it ends." Barrick's pummeling yet dreamy percussion arrangement only help the song to sway carefully like the open path Martin sings of.
On You & Me, the Walkmen have opened up another plane on emotion, as their transparency never feels contrived, instead it shows their vulnerability as human beings. Truly one of the better albums of 2008, You & Me is not an album that can be appreciated after one listen; it's the kind of diamond in the rough that teases you, taunts you, and intrigues you just enough to go on to a successive listen, and with each one it reveals itself until all the skeletons are out of the closet. (In the New Year, Canadian Girl, New Country, If Only It Were True)
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