Words by Jacob Henneman//Illustration by Johnnie Cluney
Deep within the Cold War Kids’ collective sternums lies a spark, dull but awaiting ignition. Who knows how it was lit. Maybe it was the bully in middle school, maybe it was the tattered drunkard they passed slinking in the alleyway, littered with newspaper and shards of jagged glass. Whatever it was, the inspiration and predisposition to pen societal pitfalls and human existential anomalies is how that spark blazes from their chest to your ears, and subsequently in your subconscious.

On “Robbers and Cowards,” their protagonists range from depressed 12-year-old girls on cross country vacations to struggling, alcoholic middle-aged fathers and shadowy thieves clinking with trinkets of victory. No one is safe from their broad reaching malaise, not even our most reliant institutions. Politics, family life, and the much maligned Church all must be brought to their knees and answer to the passive-aggressive punching bag vocals of lead singer Nathan Willett.

It confuses me to read how many critics have labeled this debut album as a failure compared with the hype of how good it was going to be. The Cold War Kids have unjustly been shoved onto this pedestal in the stratosphere of expectations. Unjust not because they are undeserving, but in the sense that it’s almost impossible to even keep the bandwagon from collapsing with all the foaming mouthed bloggers piling on. They have been passed the “next big thing” baton whether their arms were outstretched or not. So, naturally, we have to expect big things from “Robbers and Cowards,” at least that’s what the buzz would tell us.

It’s bullshit though, really. Surely the next-big-thing publicity is great, but under the magnifying glass, the critics have insisted on dissecting it with the utmost scrutiny instead of appreciating it for what it is: one of the best and most intellectually stimulating albums of the year.

“Robbers and Cowards” is a therefore a martyr. It has been framed with being a life changing project, and subsequently been killed with some very blunt criticisms. It is easy to find an infinite amount of reasons to hate this album, but the fact of the matter is, the Cold War Kids did exactly what everyone knew they were going to do, and they still managed to create a refreshing and brilliantly deep album. The songs comprising “Robbers” are all familiar—all but two are on their previous two EPs. The simple fact that you have heard the songs already is not a reason to hate this album either. The production is much smoother than the EPs, without sacrificing the jagged edge and imposing isolationist anthems that the Kids hang their hats on. Also, kinks are thrown in, lyrics are changed, and song order is adjusted.

Laid out over the coals of clanky percussion and menacing SoCal guitar and pounding piano, the Cold War Kids’ lyrics are always able to gain an extra heir of genuineness. “Robbers and Cowards” is about trying to maintain a normal life with all the externalities that can complicate and taint it. It’s about sinning and penance, maintaining your head when lurking in the shadows hide veiled corruptors.

Willett is “shouting questions like a fistfight.” Should we forgive the father for neglecting his family due to alcohol’s grip? Should we pardon the young man who kills a gang member for raping his sister? Should we feel sorry for the robber whose victims haunt his every thought? It’s a novel idea to think that those who do wrong are just inclined to act that way, but the Cold War Kids would tell you it just isn’t that simple. As interesting and refreshing as their sound is, the lyrical prowess they exhibit throughout their debut is truly an astounding feat. The deeper you delve into “Robbers and Cowards,” the more you will find out which of those characters in the title you side with.

I could hate this album. I could jump off the bandwagon and drag some people down with me. But now that a few people have left, it is all that much more comfortable. And besides, these guys are just too good to abandon. It is hard to hear musicians address existentialism and not scream for their pretentious heads. The spark that burns within them burns within all of us as well. For the Cold War Kids, it’s just a matter of fanning the flame.