Album Review: Longwave - If We Ever Live Forever
I was supposed to see the band Longwave two different times.
The first was in December, 2008—and winter is, like, a dicey
time to make plans that involve traveling not a ‘long’ distance, per se, but a
distance never the less. It had been snowing all day, if I remember this
correctly, and the roads in town were absolute trash, and after a very brief
conversation about this with my wife—who wasn’t even my wife at this point—we
had been living together for a little over two years and were in the process of
becoming engaged and planning out a wedding—but she expressed a lot of concern
about me driving the hour to Minneapolis to go a concert, by myself.
I understood; the ticket was a negligible amount of money,
and despite the minor disappointment about my change I plans, I too was
concerned about my safety on the roads.
So I stayed home, and ordered a t-shirt from the band’s
webstore in an effort to console myself. A friend of mine who I was planning to
meet up with at the show still went—he was working south of Minneapolis at the
time, and was a little more confident about traveling in bad weather. I asked
him how the show was, and he said it was ‘criminally unattended.’
The second time was a few months later, in April 2009.
Longwave were the supporting act on a tour with Bloc Party. And somehow, at
this point, I had turned my friend Tom1 onto the band—he was living
in Mankato at the time, so we made plans for him to come through, pick me up,
and we’d go to the concert, possibly leaving before Bloc Party even made it
onto stage.
For some reason, and now, a decade later if you were to ask
me why I did this, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, but I took a moment to look
at the venue’s website to confirm that the concert was still happening—much to
my surprise, it wasn’t. It had been canceled, because the lead singer from Bloc
Party was sick, or something.
I quickly called Tom, who had already left Mankato but
wasn’t too far along yet, and told him to turn around and go back home.
*
Discovering Longwave, when I did, in the spring of 2003, was
a matter of being in the right place, at the right time2. I was
finishing my sophomore year in college, and when I could convince my boss in
the A/V department to point the satellite dish toward it, one of the cable
channels our campus offered was MTV2; and, when I remembered, I would record
the show “Subterranean,”3 airing late on Sunday nights, and would
watch it during the first part of the week.
One of the videos that caught my eye, and song that stopped
me in my tracks, was “Everywhere You Turn,” the lead single from The Strangest Things—at the time, it was
the forthcoming major label debut from the New York City based band Longwave. The
album itself, 16 years later, is still damn near perfect—a surprising, noisy
blast of shoegaze-influenced dense, jangly rock music—it’s one of those records
that carried with me through time, often returning to it regularly, and citing
it among one of my favorites.
I was elaborating on Longwave
recently with a friend of mine4 who had never heard of them
before—explaining that The Strangest
Things was one of my favorite albums of all time, but that the rest of
their canon was a little hit or miss. In 2004, the group released the stopgap
EP Life of The Party; the following
year, they released There’s A Fire—a
maligned record that, even upon my initial listens of it in 2005, save for a
few brilliant moments (“Fall on Every Whim,” the dramatic “Underneath You Know
The Names,” and the brash full-on pop of “Tell Me I’m Wrong,” I always felt
like it failed to match the blistering urgency and immediacy of its full-length
predecessor.
Following the release of There’s
A Fire, the band didn’t so much break up, but were dropped from RCA records5,
and went through some line up changes—leading to a number of silent years,
before resurfacing at the tail end of 2008 with Secrets Are Sinister—a record that, at the time, I really enjoyed,
even with all its faults. Though, again, despite a handful of captivating
moments (the shimmering titular track in particular, and the absolute torrent
that is “Life is Wrong”) the band, and maybe they aren’t even trying to do
this, hasn’t been able to recreate or recapture that exuberance moment from the
early part of the 2000s.
The Longwave Wikipedia lists the band as taking an ‘extended
hiatus’ in 2008, lasting a decade—during that time, the band’s frontman and
guitarist, Steve Schlitz6,
released two full-length albums under a new moniker—Hurricane Bells7.
The first of which, Tonight is The Ghost,
arrived near the end of 2009, just as he had a song, “Monsters,” placed within
the second installment of the Twilight movie
franchise; the second, Tides and Tales,
was released in the fall of 2011.
Both projects had been dormant for so long, I presumed that
they were over; for all I know, Hurricane Bells could, in fact, be finished, or just a project that Schlitz dusts
off whenever he wants; however, Longwave, after a decade of silence, returned
at the beginning of 2018 with the promise of new material and live dates.
Roughly 10 years to the date that they released Secrets are Sinister, the band issued a new single at the end of
2018, “Stay With Me.” And for some reason, I slept on it—maybe it wasn’t the
right time for me to really go back to a band that I had once held so close to
me, or maybe it just, as I have been known to say, wasn’t “hittin.’”8
And maybe because it, at that time, wasn’t hitin’, I was
uncertain how to proceed with the news that Longwave were releasing a new
album—If We Ever Live Forever, the
band’s first in 11 years.
Spread across 10 tracks, including the aforementioned
advance single, “Stay With Me,” If We
Ever Live Forever is an album that is representative of growth and
maturation, as well as a reflection on a decade of self-imposed silence, and a
convergence of the band’s variants in sound. It finds the band, sonically
speaking, tapping into the bombastic density of Secrets are Sinister, while also evoking glimmers of the familiar,
explosive catharsis from The Strangest
Things.
*
There are two impressive things, right out of the gate, with
If We Ever Live Forever—the first is,
simply, that the band was able to return from a decade away, and almost
effortlessly throw themselves back into finding that very similar level of
energy—if not more energy than they had in 2008, as well a taking their
familiar sound, and allowing it to grow into new heights and complexities.
The second impressive thing is the audacious, incredible
four-song run that opens the record—from the dizzying, swirling, cacophony that
opens “Before You Disappear,” all the way through the glitchy, frenetic,
driving rhythm of “Dreamers Float Away,” If
We Ever Live Forever is unrelenting in the kind of unabashed enthusiasm it
brings, even as, within those for tracks, the band shows a surprising amount of
diversity while still working in their trademark soundscape.
There is a third thing, too, that is possibly the most
impressive thing of all about the record, but it arrives at the very end.
If We Ever Live
Forever opens with a flurry of noise that slowly gets larger and larger
before it completely explodes on “Before You Disappear,” the chaotic first song
on the record; even after a decade later, the members of Longwave still know
how to craft a tense of drama and tension, along with a release spilling over in
a noisy, beautiful fury that detonates about a minute and 40 seconds into the
song; and even when everything kicks into a higher gear, Longwave pushes it
further, with brief, distorted into oblivion guitar solo that makes the instrument
sounding like it was being murdered in a dark alley by an ancient
computer—proving that the band hasn’t lost its penchant for pedal fuckery
during their time away.
From there, the band finds itself sliding into a
surprisingly infectious, slithering groove on the album’s titular track,
powered by fuzzed out, tight bass lines from the group’s new bass player,
Christian Bongers, rolling alongside the strong rhythm coming from the band’s
drummer, Jason Molina—not to be confused with the deceased singer/songwriter
from Ohio.
And, surprisingly enough, the band winds up in what could
only be described as something…funky…with borderline nods to disco in its
arranging, as the album’s second half begins with the equally as infectious
“Echo Bravo.”
“Infectious” is not necessarily a word that I would
originally think to describe Longwave, but it’s something the band has worked
into its songwriting since the early days on The Strangest Things—yes, even though they deal in elements of
shoegaze and jangle pop in their aesthetic, this is still, at the end of the
day, pop music, and Schlitz, as the band’s primary songwriter, has found a way,
in all that dissonance and noise, to create a number of memorable pop moments,
both throughout the band’s career, as well as on If We Ever Live Forever—including the two aforementioned tracks, as
well as the similarly catchy, similarly slinking in its groove “1 x 1
(Disorder.)”
It’s a terribly fine line, though, trying to work in all of
those elements and making sure you have the right amount of each, which is why
the album’s first single, released a year in advance, “Stay With Me,” maybe
crosses the line and becomes focused too focused on being catchy, straying
entirely too far from what makes the rest of this album enjoyable. It’s at this
point that the record doesn’t falter per se—but the momentum of the first four
songs, as well as the addition of the surprisingly fun “Echo Bravo,” and the
swooning grandeur of “I’ll Be The First” are enough to power If We Ever Live Forever to its
brilliant, cathartic conclusion.
*
I spent roughly a week listening to If We Ever Live Forever after it was released, playing it in
different scenarios, like while walking home from work, or letting it play
through off of the computer9 while at home, and it took me a few
times through, from beginning to end, to realize what was going on during the
album’s closing track, “It’s Not Impossible.”
The closing track on a record, as one would expect, is
incredibly important. If done well, it’ll allow the album to linger with a
listener long after the music had stopped; it should be emotional—a big, grand
statement that could, if it wanted to, break whatever tension has been created
by the rest of the record, offering a fleeting moment of catharsis.
Or, in the case of a song like “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,”
from The National’s High Violet, it
can simply make you sad that the record is over.10
“It’s Not Impossible” is not the kind of song that makes you
sad that the record is over—however it is written and structured to be
emotionally manipulative enough that it, the song itself, evokes a surprising
amount of feelings as it builds, then builds again, then takes off—only to wrap
itself up shortly there after, leaving one with a feeling that, while it’s okay
that the record itself is over, you wish the song could keep going on forever.
I sent “It’s Not Impossible” to my friend and asked her to
listen to it—saying only that I had been playing it on repeat for most of an
evening, adding that it was ‘really something.’ She listened, and said she was
into it, but needed a little more time with it before she made any kind of real
decision; then she asked what it was about it that I liked so much.
I stop short of saying Longwave are the kind of band that
make ‘headphone records,’ because The
Strangest Things, for example, was mixed and mastered to be, like,
exponentially louder than maybe other records at the time—so it sounds great
turned up nice and loud over a stereo. However, if you do listen to Longwave
through your headphones, you can get a feel for just how dense and complex the
group’s dynamics are, and how there is a lot going on, woven tightly into the
layers of the song.
“It’s Not Impossible,” from a sheer production standpoint,
has a lot going on—specifically with the trick of playing the song’s drum fills
in reverse, which is just one of many arresting things about it, both musically
and emotionally. In early listens, I wondered if the song would be as impactful
if it didn’t deploy this bit of legerdemain, but I think it needs it—helping
create a slight undercurrent of tension that literally cuts through the
gorgeous bed of music within the song.
Structurally, and musically, “It’s Not Impossible” takes its
time revealing itself, which is another one of the elements that makes it such
an impactful song—the band uses the entire first minute to simply swirl
feedback, tones, and noises around; I mean, there’s really no discerning, at
that point, what direction the song is going to take—so when the song passes
that one minute mark, it’s a surprise, or some kind of big reveal, as the other
elements to the song begin tumbling around.
But, again, the band takes their time with this, too,
building things up until Schlitz arrives with the opening line; it’s another 42
seconds of instrumentation only—huge, emotional piano chords, a steady kick
drum rhythm that’s only interrupted by the slicing through of those reversed
drum fills, and those guitar tones and noises from the first minute of the song
return, only this time, more focused on the melody of the song.
“It started this
way—at the beginning, it was only me and you,” he sings, in a plaintive,
talk/sing kind of delivery—and that’s the way he uses his voice throughout most
song, or at least during this opening verse, before effortlessly letting it
glide into actual, like, ‘singing’ singing—or, pulling his voice into a higher
range, allowing it to rise with the music as it gradually builds.
And it’s that build, and the payoff, with a minute left in
the song, that’s the impactful element—“It’s Not Impossible” is almost all
dramatic tension, and it almost seems like that beautiful moment of catharsis
isn’t actually going to happen, but it does, with so little time left.
Lyrically, there’s a lot of repetition based around the
titular phrase of “It’s Not Impossible,” but there’s also, if you unpack the
song just a little, a sense of mild desperation, and urgency, and a pensive,
bittersweet tone, especially after it really gets going. “It’s
not impossible—I’m gonna let you know I’ll make it up to you before the end,”
and it’s in that moment, the second time around it’s sung, near the four minute
mark—you can hear everything converge in a way that you have to presume the
band all did a ‘chef’s kiss’ in the studio when putting this together. On ‘the end,’ the guitars begin to howl, and
the full drum set kicks in with a thundering, pounding rhythm, along with
additional atmospherics, and piano twinkling mixed in, creating an absolutely
gorgeous, borderline devastating, swooning, fleeting glimpse of perfection—the
sound of everything both being built up and falling down around you.
*
Longwave, as a band, didn’t have to return from their decade
away—they could have stayed a cult favorite, with indie kids (now indie grown
ass adults) still mythologizing The
Strangest Things and the band’s association to the early 2000s rock revival
in New York City. But for a band to come back, after that long of a time away,
or on ‘extended hiatus,’ and not just coast on the goodwill11 of
their previous efforts—but, instead, take their time and return with new,
genuine album.
If We Ever Live
Forever doesn’t ‘reinvent’ Longwave, because as a band, they didn’t need to
reinvent themselves. At times breathtaking, and at times, wildly cacophonic and
unpredictable, it’s an album that is a reflection of where the band has been,
both during their active and inactive years, full of enough energy to keep them
looking ahead into a rejuvenated, though always unknown, future.
1 – I am not totally certain on this, but at the end of
2008, I had started working at a radio station, and my guess is Tom was
listening to the show I was involved with at the time, and heard me play
something off of Secrets are Sinister
on the air.
2- For me, this usually meant being in front of the
television at the right time—it’s the same way I heard about the band World
Leader Pretend in 2005.
3- “Subterranean” was a shortened replacement to “120
Minutes,” which had concluded its run in 2003.
4- Shout out to Andrea, who always reads the footnotes.
5- The band’s Wikipedia says they ‘parted ways’ with
the label, but I think that’s a polite way of saying Longwave had been dropped
following the release of There’s A Fire.
6- I had a difficult time, while writing this,
wondering just how much I should talk about Hurricane Bells, or if I should
give any anecdotes about my experience with the two Hurricane Bells records,
the first of which I listened to a lot
when it came out at the end of 2009. Also, when the frontman and songwriter
from one band starts another band,
it’s difficult at times to articulate how the projects are different. They
sound very similar, just because of who is involved and the overall aesthetic,
but I guess if I were pressed to explain Hurricane Bells, I’d say a majority of
it is lighter or softer in comparison.
7- I may never see Longwave live, but the
aforementioned friend Tom, who I have lost touch with and haven’t seen or
talked to in over three years—we went to a very, very poorly attended Hurricane
Bells concert in the spring of 2010 at the Turf Club in St. Paul.
8- So, when I originally passed this album along to my
friend Andrea, she listened to a little bit of the opening track and, at that
moment, was not feeling it and told me it ‘wasn’t hittin’’ She also said it reminded
her of U2, and my initial instinct when anyone says anything reminds them of U2
is to get defensive and be like NO IT DOES NOT YOU TAKE THAT BACK, but for real, I can hear why she’d
think that because as Longwave has progressed, they’ve aged into some U2-ish tendencies
at times.
9- Just a point of clarification that even though I
listen to a lot of music on the computer while I’m trying work on a review or
whatever, I really hate it and would prefer to just listen from a stereo.
10- For the past nine years, my wife becomes
overwhelmed with melancholy when “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” starts—partially because
the opening piano progression is emotionally manipulative, but mostly because
she’s sad the album is already over.
11- Longwave, at some point before they packed it up in
2008-9, started palling around with Blue October, an ‘alterative’ rock band
that I just don’t quite understand. Once Longwave returned from hiatus, they
toured extensively in 2018 with Blue October and are currently on the road with
them now. I don’t go to shows, really, anymore, and so at this point, I kind of
doubt I’ll ever catch Longwave in concert. And you know, that’s okay.
If We Ever Live Forever is out now as a digital download and limited edition LP; the compact disc, for some reason, arrives on November 15th—all via Bodan Kuma.
If We Ever Live Forever is out now as a digital download and limited edition LP; the compact disc, for some reason, arrives on November 15th—all via Bodan Kuma.
Comments
Post a Comment