31 January 2007
tell your friends...
Words by Sean Moeller // Illustration by Abigail Bruley
We got past the booby trap again today. It’s as if the Hands threw an encrypted message out there to ward off any of those come-latelies (come to think of it, isn’t that all of us? — we hardly know thee). They issue a combination double dare and affirming disclosure with Some Loud Thunder. It’s not an, “If you don’t like this song, you’re going to hate us so turn back now while you still have daylight and the walking’s good.” It’s more of a this-is-how-it’s-going-to-be song that opens the front door, charges in out of the downpour and liberally, unapologetically tracks mud and rainwater all over the floor. It’s here and it’s indoors. It may shake like a soggy dog and splatter its uncleanliness all over the room, specks of it whapping against the table legs and refrigerator art. The only issue that can remain with the opening song on this album is that it’s given to us so tattered, which feels unfair to what’s obviously a splendid tune. Give it your blessing Say Yeahers, comb its ratty hair maybe, clean the chocolate syrup stain from the front of its shirt at the very least. The reasoning behind letting us have it as is is as puzzling a question as it is reflective of the band’s supposed ideals and therefore a non-issue. From here on, that song will be forgotten or forgiven for its indiscretions (a cruel kind of fate for a song that longs to be listened to like all the others). After this, that is. As I find myself starting to adore the rest of the album, I just want to ask more questions of that first song, which seems to be a piece written more from an autobiographical stance than any of the others. It’s not blatant, but it does seem to comment, perhaps partially on the attention that the band so suddenly was besieged with when the self-titled record caught fire and they were in serious vogue. They don’t like talking about what they do, this is obvious as Ounsworth is known for running the show and retreating from questions — serving snippy comments at times — when he wants to. He sings, “Tell me when do mouths close/And people gracefully retreat?” That’s us he’s referring to and it’s one hell of a way to start an album. He talks about “pretending to start something big, some new taste.” Much of the rest of the record is ambiguous — typical CYHSY — and the songs go off wandering into different avenues and side views so what’s to be made of the opening statement is anybody’s guess. Twice on the album there’s a mention of going to or living on the bottom of the ocean. Being known and scrutinized is an issue.
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