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Music reviews |
The Reindeer Section - Son of Evil Reindeer
Slow, pretty, intricate, sometimes too-sweet folk-pop from a "Scottish indie supergroup."
Pias America
Release date: 8/13/02
Rating: B+1. Grand Parade 3:16
2. Budapest 3:25
3. Strike Me Down 2:52
4. Your Sweet Voice 4:46
5. I'll Be Here When You Wake 3:10
6. Where I Fall 3:05
7. Cartwheels 4:07
8. Last Song on Blue Tape 2:35
9. Cold Water 3:08
10. You Are My Joy 3:45
11. Who Told You 3:10
12. Whodunnit? - 3:25Yes, the phrase “Scottish indie-rock supergroup” sounds a bit off. Sort of like “Canadian cuisine,” “Amish dance craze” or “Republican artists’ collective.”
But don’t laugh until you see the list of bands contributing members to The Reindeer Section: Belle and Sebastian, Arab Strap, Teenage Fanclub, Mogwai, the Vaselines, Idlewild, Alfie, Eva and Astrid – not at all shabby. Not to mention Snow Patrol, a band I admit I’ve never heard, but whose principal songwriter, Gary Lightbody, is the driving force, author or co-author of all songs, and usually main vocalist on Son of Evil Reindeer, the second outing from this band of ever-changing personnel. In all, twenty-seven Scottish musicians are heard on the album’s twelve tracks.
The record’s sound is surprisingly uniform, given its contributors’ very different styles and sounds. Son of Evil Reindeer is rarely twee and precious like Belle and Sebastian. There’s little power-pop in the style of Teenage Fanclub or Idlewild. None of Mogwai’s experimental instrumentals.
Instead, nearly all tracks are downtempo but upbeat folk-pop, mellow but usually (not always) avoiding “adult contemporary” blandness. This is music for drinking tea indoors on a rainy day, which people probably do a lot in Scotland. Think of the Sundays, the Delgados, Aimee Mann or Mojave 3, or Ben Folds when he’s not banging too hard on his piano, and you get the idea.
The reason for this discipline is the apparent strength of Lightbody’s control of the process. Few of his better-known collaborators get an audible star turn on the album; most are contributing backing vocals, or adding percussion, horns, strings or other instruments. It doesn’t sound like a lot of musicians are milling around in the studio – “Where I Fall,” for instance, is all vocals and acoustic guitar – and most songs are quite subdued. A close listen, however, reveals how intricate and layered most tracks are. The horn section is there, it’s just not in your face. Nor should it be.
The album opens with “Grand Parade” which, though not the best song on the album – it’s a bit cloying and oversweet – sets the tone for what is to come. The first minute is all Lightbody and his acoustic, joined all at once by the rest of the band, complete with those subdued horns and harmonies by Eva’s Jenny Reeve.
“Budapest,” a highlight, is 3 ½ minutes of aching melancholy played in a major key with floating guitar, horn and harmonies. “Strike Me Down,” with Reeve and Lightbody switching verses, is bouncy and a bit heavy on the “ba ba ba” lyric, but features a gorgeous guitar part and chorus. “Your Sweet Voice” is a wistful acoustic guitar-piano-drum-and vocal ballad, with strings somewhere back there in the mix. “I’ll Be Here When You Wake” is good, though you might confuse it with “Strike Me Down”; “I’ll Be Here…” is the one with the flute and the loping rhythm.
“Where I Fall” is just Lightbody and his acoustic, but it sounds bigger somehow because it’s a terrific piece of songwriting. Next is “Cartwheels,” which breaks the languor of the last several tracks with at least two guitars, more harmonies, strings, a faster tempo, and a fuller, layered sound – a standout track that stands up well after repeated listens.
“Last Song on Blue Tape,” sung by Alfie’s Lee Gorton, sort of blends in with what came before – it’s pretty enough, but is memorable only for the horn part. “Cold Water,” too, is a perfectly good bit of songwriting – Lightbody, his guitar, a slow drum, great horns and a pretty chorus, again – but it so closely resembles earlier tracks that I still forget it’s there even after hearing the album a few dozen times.
The tenth track, “You Are My Joy,” stands out sharply from the rest of the album: relentlessly upbeat, anthemic even, just begging you to hold your cigarette lighter aloft and sing along. I don’t know whether I like this song or not – it’s great that Lightbody and friends can put down their teacups and go out in the sunshine on occasion, and it contrasts well to the album’s slower tracks. On the other hand, the constant repeating of the title phrase makes it sound like a song that a group like Collective Soul would have done ten years ago.
Next are two other downtempo but very different tracks, with Lightbody yielding the microphone to other talent. On “Who Told You,” Idlewild’s Roddy Woomble sings what is definitely not an Idlewild song. Crooning over guitar, synth and a glitchy, almost cheesy drum machine, “Who Told You” sounds a bit like a lesser track from the Postal Service, Ben Gibbard’s 2003 side project. The song never really goes anywhere, then it’s over.
The record closes with “Whodunnit?,” a meandering but eminently listenable track with Eugene Kelly of the Vaselines contributing a smarmy, heavily accented, intoxicated-sounding vocal. He sounds like one of the cast of Trainspotting as the song shuffles along with piano and fuzzy guitar. A great close to the album. (If you’re like me, you’re probably thinking “The Vaselines – why do they sound familiar?” I’m sorry to admit I’ve never heard Kelly’s venerable group – but I’ve heard their excellent “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a Sunbeam” dozens of times: sung by Kurt Cobain all those years ago, on Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record.)
And that’s the album – impressive songwriting, intricate arrangements and collaborative song-playing, with crisp production and a consistent feel. It’s amazing that this was recorded in just two weeks. Yes, at times it’s a bit too laid-back, too saccharine, and too cloying – too much Cat Stevens, not enough Nick Drake – but only at times.
In all, I’m surprised by how long I’ve kept this album near the top of my pile. That doesn’t usually happen with tossed-off side-project records. I guess that just proves that Scottish supergroups are a different breed entirely.
