Contra

Contra

Vampire Weekend

XL, 2010

Vampire Weekend are kind of interesting politically. The music is great, and it was the number one album on the country this week, so there is all of that, which I will talk about in a bit but the politics should be wrestled with first. Initially one is reminded of the Paul Simon issue—namely how do we process the music of other people while including politics and acknowledging the colonialism of it all. Simon in the 80s did this poorly; the politics were often sophomoric, Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints were gorgeous, but his use of artists like Los Lobos and Ladysmith Black Mambazo were put out by Simon’s taking advantage of their skills and culture, making money off of their good name.

Vampire Weekend do not use other musicians, they have a tight crew, and are not in the position to use the resources of other people. They also ignore politics, or at least are much less willing to engage them directly. On this album they make fun of a woman who claims to understand the international situation at all. The music mirrorings of that vintage work, but does not claim its politics. One wonders if the colonial moment is still alive here, and if they are failing to acknowledge any necessary baggage. Even putting that kind of work aside, even if it sounds slightly different then Simon or Genesis or Byrne, it is radically different in context.

Part of that context is doing the same kind of work as a new breed of cultural polyglots, but not nearly as radical, or as ass shaking/ear breaking. There are mentions here and there of AK(s), of immigration, of eco shit but all of this is beside the point. This is not the fuck you politically eschatological disco for a trans-continentally aware new world, this is not Santogold or M.I,A, though Paperplanes is making a fortune, and Maya is marrying a Bronfman, so maybe the contexts have changed and moved? I am reminded of a quote that Matthew Perptura put up on his tumblr version of Fluxblog: “There are people who read Pitchfork, and Vampire Weekend is the most mainstream record in their collection. And then there are my friend’s nieces, who worship John Mayer. Vampire Weekend is the weirdest thing in their collection” That comes from the head of XL, Vampire Weekend’s label.

I keep thinking that a listener keeps riffing on this shit in their head before settling, and it feels like the rock that has to be moved before listening to the record. Picking it up at HMV with a bunch of other albums my buddy Raymond and I have a conversation about all of this while waiting in line. Mentioning how much I like all of this to my composer friend Sundar, and I keep defending their politics, though I know that it is is ambiguous and mostly for some weird reason, I keep riffing because of pleasure, and I want people to like this album that it gives me pleasure. I have no problem defending work that gives me pleasure in other contexts—i love Britney, and I think 3OH!3 is much more interesting, and the next album I hope to review is Ke$ha, but all of these are different. The potential for white boys ripping off others is a bit toxic.

The album isn’t perfect. It is in love with it’s own cleverness in places, there is too much going on, too much self-congratulatory eclecticness that is not nearly as eclectic as it would like to be rewarded for. There is a I went to Brown so I understand world music, and my prep style is heavily coded, mainline prep winking. It can get annoying, we all know it can get annoying. All of that said, the lyrics are unbelievably tight. The song Califonria English is a perfect example. It is a riff on Simon’s song of Boy in a Bubble, it is a potted history of the dialect that we all accidentally end up singing; it is the laceration of a certain kind of person, girls who are lonely and wandering, pale, and might have spent a couple of semesters on daddy’s money somewhere like Cal Arts. It is a perfect LA song written by a NY band who is both heavily suspicious and erotically seduced by the potential of bodies and language where they have lost the status of place. The vocals push past a wall of solid percussion and elegant guitars. The chorus has that chanticleer quality that means it will be swimming through your head when you go to bed and when you get up in the morning.

California English might be the perfect example of this kind of lyrical and musical sophistication, but it can be found elsewhere, and it is contained mostly in vocals and percussion. The melancholy drawl of Taxi Cab lays its ennui on a foundation of buzzing strings and thick rebolo strikes. Cousins begins with with best minute or so of Marimba in a pop song perhaps ever, though the accent he sings with is a little forced; Cousins has so much going on musically and lyrically that it took me a dozen listens before I could sort out exactly how I felt about it, and all of those listens roughly settled around: “This is so fucking awesome, and joyful, and it makes me shake my ass—and well anything that makes me dance is really worth the price of admission” If this was released in July, Me and Your Cousins and You and Your Cousins would be the anthem of the summer, a cross over hit that XL creams its dreams about .Now it is a useful corrective to the grey bleakness of winter.

Even when the reach exceeds its grasp there is something here. Giving up the Gun is didactic as hell, and there are several too many layers in the production, it batters and has a kind of machine gun/drum kit precision that wears its welcome, but it has some moments of elegance in the debauchery of overly processed power. Diplomat’s Son has a beginning chorus that could come out of MIA and strings that sound a bit like Guy Lombardo. The narrative could be adapted into the next Wes Anderson movie of overly aestheticized sadness, plus it has some of the strongest lyrics. The story telling is fantastic, but there is no reason at all that it clocks in at more then 6 minutes. It should also be the last song on the album, as what follows it is too sappy, and not nearly as clever as the rest of the work.

So, the album is beautiful. It is a joy to listen to. It is politically suspect, but amoral in a way that others of the genre are not. This may or may not be a problem. The mixing is strong, the playing is wicked, the writing is tight. The narratives are clever. The videos will be anticipated strongly. All of this makes it well worth listening to.

Anthony Easton

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