Past Lives
Tapestry of Webs
Rating: 3.5/5.0
Label: Suicide Squeeze
It’d be too easy to take Past Lives for granted; having established their line-up after the indefinite hiatus of the dual-lead vocalist scream rockers Blood Brothers, the Seattle quartet made their recorded debut in ’08 with Strange Symmetry, an EP that boasted nothing less than five tracks of smart-sounding, guitar-centric neuroticism. Nothing less, but also, nothing more; to get blogged about lately, in the downloadable, single-friendly state of indie, a band seems to need a gimmick. The xx trade in sparse breathiness, low-rent, dreamy atmospherics are Beach House’s flavor and Vampire Weekend are famous for tastefully appropriating Third World pop music or for cultural imperialism, depending on whom you ask.
Such a wide stylistic swath speaks to the well-cultured listening habits of hip-kid listeners, yet it also betrays a certain kind of shallowness. Past Lives’ first full-length, Tapestry of Webs, has no easily-identifiable stylistic hook or quirk and instead demands more attention of the listener. The extra effort pays off, more often than not, in the way of smartly-composed, tightly-wound, atmospheric rock music that touches on a lot of the last 20 years of ‘alternative’ music, exploring that tradition rather than any capricious genre-dabbling.
In the slow build from soft to loud in the opener “Paralyzer” and again in the spacious moodiness of “Deep in the Valley,” complete with squawking fingers on fretboards and the cooing of electronic doves, Tapestry of Webs revels in a kind of ’90s-era guitar rock atmosphere, which is to say that it has any; longtime Seattle fixture Steve Fisk produced and I would hazard to guess is due much of the credit for Tapestry’s depth of sound. This is not to say that Tapestry of Webs is meant as sonic wallpaper; Past Lives is a rock band, after all, and their best material combines the frenzied, paranoid rhymes of Jordan Blilie, the Geordie Walker-via-Isaac Brock guitar of Devin Welch and the unpredictable drumming of Mark Gajadhar into tightly-coiled, millennial doomsaying.
“Falling Spikes” is a prime example, Blilie keeningly fearing for the titular hazards while Gajadhar skips around his kit and Welch maintains steely restraint. “Past Lives” delves further into Killing Joke territory, Blilie’s apocalyptic lyrics and deliberate phrasing recalling Jaz Coleman’s delivery while Welch’s queasy-sounding run of notes during a break sounds like Geordie Walker’s chords during the breaks of Revelations‘ “Chop-Chop.” “Vanishing Twin” boasts more uneasy rhythms, disconcerting lyrics and icy, flanged guitar, becoming an album highlight despite its lack of strong melodic hook or other gimmicky gambit; this is where what makes Past Lives Past Lives come together, to great effect.
At the same time, “Aerosol Bouquet” sounds like Past Lives idling, the instrumental “At Rest” is an inconsequential detour and the closing “There is a Light So Bright it Blinds” takes too long to get where its going. The final result is a 12-track album that can’t help but feel a little padded; an argument could be made for cutting some fat. Yet, we shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; Tapestry of Webs is an interesting record, without gimmick, irony or quirk. It’s aggressive, smart guitar rock for people with attention spans and is, after all, a debut, and its promises point toward an ascendant, unique band.
by Chris Middleman
