NEW SOUND MAGAZINE NEWSOUND_VOL_VII_2013 | Page 10
T
he Beach Fossils front man is
dealing with some tricky stuff.
The time that’s passed since
Beach Fossils’ solid, well-received
eponymous debut has given its
name an unintended resonance;
when we all pass from this mortal
coil, songs like “Daydream” and
“Vacation” will be artifacts frozen
in time, informing our descendents
of what happened in 2010 when
the attitudinal tenets of chill wave
were leeching into fuzzy, soft-focus
indie pop. There’s the big picture
stuff too: how to let one’s ambition
manifest, what really endures in a
world where so much is fleeting,
the challenges of
squaring ar tistic
expression wit h
f i n a n c i a l
temptation.
These
are
all
relatable
even if you’re not
in a band, and
they’ve
proven
f ine inspiration
for
musicians
who confidently
use their art as a
means of making
sense of it all. On
the other hand,
you
sometimes
get a passiveaggressive album
like Clash the
Truth, which just
sounds kind of
confused.
That’s
really
the
bigger
concern. Their first
album peers Wild
Nothing, Real Estate, and Cloud
Nothings have already proven
themselves with assured, expansive
sophomore LPs, and in even quicker
succession, former guitarist Zachary
Cole Smith’s Dive went from “Beach
Fossils side project” to DIIV, a band
that surpassed them while operating
in the same lane. There’s a lack
of conviction on Clash the Truth
that finds numerous ways to infiltrate
8
otherwise fine songs; the opening
title-track makes an unexpected
shift into a post-punk monotone
which only stresses the utter lack
of urgency in Payseur’s vocals. By
introducing a darker, more socially
aware edge, it makes a song on the
opposite end of the spectrum like
“Taking Off” (“I’m taking off again/
It feels like it’s so soon/ Am I excited
or am I just so confused”) sound like
a sheepish retreat to their previous
work.
Elsewhere, Beac h Fossils’
indecisiveness arises more subtly.
Some wondered if the relative
cleanliness of their 2011 What a
Pleasure EP detracted too much
from the scrappy charm of Beach
Fossils; it isn’t the production
methods that defined them so much
as a kind of instrumental formalism
where all the moving parts work
in an almost militaristic lockstep.
Without that rigidity, you get
amiable, mid-fi college rock jangle
along the lines of “Careless” and
“Crashed Out”, or drowsy, rainyday window-watchers like “Sleep
Apnea” that are perfectly tuneful in
the moment and do little to impress
on one’s mind in any way, let alone
establish themselves as the work
of Beach Fossils and no one else.
You also get the sense of a bigger,
conceptual gambit that they couldn’t
quite grasp. The inclusion of several
short guitar pieces isn’t a bad
move in theory; their riffs are often
tasked with handling the expression
when Payseur’s flat, affectless voice
cannot. But while their titles suggest
some sort of attempt at unifying
the disparate sounds of Clash the
Truth, they manage
no sequential effect
and unlike DIIV, the
difference between
their
instrumentals
and vocal pieces
is too wide to hear
them as anything
other than filler.
The wishy-washy
attitude
may
be
slightly bothersome
for most of Clash
the Truth, but it’s
frankly inexcusable
on “Generational
Synt he tic”, a song
about the intersection
of commerce and
art whose title makes
its point abundantly
clear. Whether or
not you think Beach
Fossils have earned
the right to make a
song like this is a moot
point. Two years ago,
you wouldn’t have
thought Cloud Nothings would’ve
had much to say about it either, but
by making their sound a philosophy,
Attack on Memory was a kickass
rock album and potent criticism.
With its ringing guitars and brisk
drum rolls, “Generational Synthetic”
is not too different than any other
Beach Fossils song.
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