The music review business ain't easy, people. Between dodging deadlines, leaning on half-baked literary devices and searching for new ways stretch "This is pretty decent" into an 800-word review, it can be a real grind sometimes. But every so often, an album comes along that blows all of that out of the water. Vampire Weekend's "Modern Vampires of the City" is one of those.
Listening to Vampire Weekend has always been somewhat of an exercise in contradictions for me. From their prep school pastels to their affected Afropop flourishes to their perfectly faded Polaroid album covers, they're an easy band to hate. I mean, they wrote a song about the Oxford comma, for God's sake.
But beneath the Ivy League pedigree and the too-hip-to-be-hipsters facade, Vampire Weekend is one of the smartest, catchiest and most talented bands in the business. Haters attacked the band from both sides, alternately calling them out for their smug East Village pretension and their sheltered Upper East Side cluelessness. But in reality, the band was shooting for the middle ground: for, as frontman Ezra Koenig described to Pitchfork, "the perfect tone halfway between deeply serious and totally f***ing around." And on "Modern Vampires of the City," they've found it.
To show you what they mean, let's take "Step," one of the album's first singles. It's a cut-and-paste collage and an array of psychedelic funhouse keyboards atop a plodding backbeat as Koenig's achingly pretty voice floats on top, singing a melody nabbed straight from a song by '70s soft rockers Bread. References to Persian rulers and Buddhist monuments mingle with Berkeley hippies, New York socialites and a repeated lyrical and melodic mantra borrowed from "Step to My Girl," a forgotten deep cut from Oakland hip hop crew Souls of Mischief. It's a dazzlingly eclectic song, but at no point does it sound contrived. Speaking of experimentation and pop songcraft, have you heard lead single "Diane Young?" No? Well, you're in for a treat. The tagline "New York indie poppers dabble in rockabilly and wildly pitch-shifted vocals" may not promise much, but it's arguably the band's catchiest song, tying 2008's "A-Punk" for sheer peppiness and the number of alluringly wild female protagonists. It sounds like a perfect fit for one of those old dancing silhouettes iPod commercials, and I mean that in the best way possible.
This is by no means a singles record. From the stately sunrise of "Obvious Bicycle" to the bucolic fadeout of "Young Lion," "Modern Vampires" is perfectly sequenced, every song standing on its own and contributing to the whole. "Unbelievers" rides joyously atop an insistent beat, as Koenig reaches for a youthful abandon he can't quite seem to muster anymore: "I'm not excited, but should I be? Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?" "Don't Lie" slows the pace down as it swaps frantic guitars for elegant strings and swooning vocals.
"Hannah Hunt" starts out slow and stately while reaching out to two star-crossed lovers and builds to a climax as the relationship falls apart. "Everlasting Arms" is a showcase of the band's musical cohesion and remains perfectly centered as textures shift, rhythms morph and layers upon layers are added, removed and added again.
The third single "Ya Hey" is tucked inconspicuously into the back end of the album. It's a strange song, but it feels essential, providing one last dose of unbridled joy before the glitchy noir of "Hudson" and pastoral harmonies of "Young Lion" bring things home. And, in the end, that's probably the perfect metaphor for "Modern Vampires." Parts of it might seem a little weird, and parts of it may never completely make sense, but it's perfectly crafted, incredibly smart and catchy as can be. Hell, it might be the best thing you hear all year.
