Born Ruffians
Say It
Rating: 2.5/5.0
Label: Warp Records
Born Ruffians aren’t quite rough, nor, it seems, are they completely ready after all. In 2008, the Ontario trio emerged, with two solid EPs and a mostly overlooked, pleasantly twitchy debut LP, as one of indie’s most refreshing new arrivals. Exploring more musical avenues than even the most seasoned post-punk revivalists should be able to, those two EPs and the Red, Yellow & Blue full-length introduced a band that sounded a bit like everything, which somehow made them sound a bit like nothing else. Say It, the band’s sophomore album, echoes rather than expands upon this musical approach, and the results are varied. With lyrics that falter as often as they soar, hooks that magnetize as often as they repel and vocals that engross as often as they agitate, Say It is chock full of promising and directionless moments, the product of a ridiculously talented band still trying to find a musical voice to call its own.
The album begins and ends rather auspiciously: Frontman Luke LaLonde alternates between crooning and practically spitting the lyrics on opener “Oh Man,” backed by a guitar-bass-drum combo that teeters on the verge of blowing through the roof but never quite explodes; and closer “At Home Now,” with its persistent guitar hooks and sweet yet gritty vocals, hints at a group that’s as capable as any indie outfit of creating a unified, dynamic sound. But like two slices of gourmet bread with equal parts lobster and Spam slapped between them, the opener and closer bookend an inconsistent core. Riddled with false endings (“Sole Brother”) and songs that linger awkwardly (“Retard Canard”), Say It is certainly filled with a lot of ideas – rumbling bass lines and catchy guitar riffs appear alongside snatches of jazz, folk, classic rock and soul – but only about half the sounds fit neatly together, and too often the abrupt stylistic changes come across as timid rather than bold. Unlike previous efforts, this record is actually stronger when the group picks a musical approach and sticks to it, as shown on “What to Say” and “Higher and Higher.”
Ostensibly a record about miscommunication, the messages Say It tries to send often hit their mark but are just as frequently lost in LaLonde’s overblown deliveries. Flaunting his vocal range at the expense of intelligibility, the singer sometimes seems to try too hard to be an expressive soul man – his lyrics, though placed well above the mix, are sometimes difficult to understand, like a karaoke contestant who needs to tone down the hyperbolic vocal flair to let his words be heard properly. Not that there’s anything wrong with an audibly muddled delivery when done well, but it’s unlikely that lyrical ambiguity is what the band is going for here. Even when the words are coherent they leave something to be desired as often as not: Banalities like, “When I wake up I’m speaking slow/ When I get drunk I’m speaking more/ Get too drunk and I don’t speak at all” distract from the record’s more poignant moments (“There’s a space in my mind’s big bookshelves/ Was a place of an idiot’s dreams“), reinforcing the record’s on again-off again standing.
At their best, Born Ruffians recall early Modest Mouse or a charmingly uncluttered Broken Social Scene, and several songs are captivating for a spell, if not for their entirety. But this record reveals as much tentativeness as bravado, and too often the arrangements, though constantly shifting, are a bit too familiar and disappear as quickly as they materialize. This album may speak volumes about the trio’s talent and potential, but more than anything Say It says that the band’s still discovering its sound, and hitting some snags along the way.
by Marcus David
