Explosions in the Sky review

I wrote this review for a now-defunct music website. Besides fixing a couple grammar issues, this is how it looked way back when. 

artist: Explosions in the Sky
album title: All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone
label: Temporary Residence Ltd. 
release year: 2007
rating: 6.5

Explosions in the Sky have made no-frills post-rock their forte; no orchestration a la Godspeed You! Black  Emperor, no jazz pretense like the Chicago scene, and little of the straight ahead rock meets  electronic noodling of Mogwai. Instead, they use the same combination of echo-laden guitars,  chiming bass and martial drums as their elements to forge soundscapes that alternate between  introspective passages and soaring choruses.

So what does their new 6-song album sound like? Much like the others, but that’s not necessarily  a bad thing. You’re hard pressed to find a band with a distinctive sound, and even rarer to  find one with the discipline to develop and refine it.

Even without the title “The Birth and Death of the Day”, the opening track’s brittle guitar and subsequent explosion of chords evokes a violent birth, development and gradual death. The track ends as dulcet tones fade away until a thin, underlying tone is revealed that carries on into the second song, "Welcome, Ghosts." What we get is more of the same, but somehow different; anyone who has listened to their oeuvre can attest to the fact that each album is basically one long song divided into movements that echo each other in theme and approach.

"Welcome, Ghosts" ebbs and flows between shimmering chords and mountains of distortion, fading into the 13 minute centerpiece, "It's Natural to be Afraid." In the album’s major mood shift, it uses a repetitive piano riff, whirling distortion, sawing strings and backwards guitar to sound vaguely menacing before fading away. It's closely followed by some gauzy electronic distortion, which itself fades away before a standard Explosions riff enters. It would have been interesting to hear the proceeding 5 minutes of kaleidoscopic noise be developed, even at the risk of breaking the atmosphere of the album.

The tracks ebb and flow in a similar manner, though the repetitiveness is broken up here and there: a flurry of piano notes that recalls vintage Genesis suddenly appears among the otherwise droning "What Do You Go Home To". "Catastrophe & the Cure" opens with possibly the albums most animated moment: a quickly strummed chord makes its presence known before a volley of slightly overdriven snare hits introduces the rest of the band. Surprisingly, the energy doesn't flag for a while, taking the same basic elements that make up the quiet parts and beating the hell out of them.

A plinking piano melody introduces the relatively brief closer, "So Long, Lonesome." The whole band rallies around that single piano riff, giving it a bed of ascending chords that evaporate just when things get too claustrophobic. Drums charge forward, guitars get more distorted, the piano becomes more insistent, and then… nothing. But they aren't after the big, heroic payoff that one might expect. Their meandering sound lets the listener get lost on the way, unencumbered by the expectation of a destination.

Ted Leo & the Mighty Mighty Bosstones

I take full responsibility for any facts my brain has mixed up in the last decade.

Around 2003 or '04, me & some friends drove up to Detroit to see Ted Leo & the Pharmacists play at the Shelter, which is the basement space below St. Andrews Hall. We pull into the deserted parking lot across the street from the venue and see a couple teenagers sitting on the steps dressed in stereotypical ska punk clothes: checkered vans (nothing wrong with that), Hot Topic bondage pants, Manic Panic hair, and Mighty Mighty Bosstones shirts. 

"I wonder if the Mighty Mighty Bosstones are playing St. Andrews Hall?"

"Ha yeah right, I thought they broke up."

The Bosstones hadn't had a hit since 1997's "The Impression That I Get", in the brief period of time between grunge and the boy band explosion when ska punk barely squeaked into national attention. They've also been around almost as long as I've been alive, so it's understandable that their longevity would result in a solid tour schedule; but in 2004, ska punk was thought to be dead and gone. 

So Ted Leo starts playing, and about 20 minutes in, all of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones exit the dressing room next to the Shelter's stage and walk through the packed crowd while carrying their instruments. The dressing room placement seems a little awkward, especially for the guy carrying the trombone. The whole display seems a little cocky, despite the necessity to get to their show, since a line of a dozen men in tailored suits walking away from the stage looks disrespectful no matter the context. 

The Bosstones disappear within a minute and all attention returns to Ted Leo, who is slaying in the full-band +  keyboard Hearts of Oak version of the Pharmacists. There are no punches pulled, all the hits are there, and everyone is enjoying themselves. 

Then, even before the 10-minute rendition of "Stove By A Whale" (where they're joined on 2nd guitar by I believe James Canty), the Bosstones return from serenading skanking teenagers upstairs, and soaked in sweat under their suits, march through the crowd yet again, lugging their horns past an appreciative crowd that is eager to hear "Timorous Me". The Bosstones, who probably commanded a much larger check for playing the big room, played for half the time as the indie band in the basement. 

The Pharmacists finish up and man their own merch table while, presumably, the Bosstones sit in their dressing room and wait to get paid. The two instances of the show being interrupted are forgotten, or remembered as a bizarre interlude to an otherwise great show.