You don’t need this review. If you have any previous experience of Carl Newman’s gleaming Vancouver-based indie supergroup (and my, taking into account Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire too, how Canada have the indie-tribe concept cornered) then you will be aware already of their impossibly tight melodic sensibilities, onward rolling momentum, Pollock-like dashes of colour and tax inspector attention to detail. Fresh air can’t fall between the cracks here. In effect there are no cracks. They’re on a very short shortlist indeed of similar bands whose quality seems infinitely assured – take Spoon and The Shins – they have a 100% record. That is what’s known as a guarantee. OJ’s (or Pete Doherty’s) lawyers couldn’t get you your money back here. And in an age of tracks over albums, playlists over sitting down cross-legged in your bedroom and getting to know an album intimately, the New Pornographers are a finely aged seal of quality.
So, surprise surprise, they delivered again. Bang bang bang, bang bang, bang. Bang! If it’s not a trembling vocal over whimsical harp-like acoustic guitar, it’s a torrent of gushing multi-vocal harmony, a tight amalgam of sweet guitar melodies or a crescendo of hammered strings and chiming. If they were a gun then, frankly, they’d be a massacre. But they’re no gun, they’d be welcomed into a hippie commune with spare goodwill to go around. A 21 party-popper salute, perhaps, when they really get going.
As with the last record, 2005’s faultless ‘Twin Cinema’, many of the highlights come courtesy of the expressive vocals of guest member Neko Case (as much as anyone can be a guest member in such a ‘side project’), that pull focus in myriad directions around Carl Newman’s strong anchor lead, affording the songs much of the kaleidoscopic quality they enjoy. Particularly fine are ‘Failsafe’, ‘All The Old Showstoppers’ and the title track, all of which remind of the rich pop grandeur of The Delgados, especially considering the very sure passage of the duel vocals, evoking also various periods of R.E.M. But ‘Myriad Harbour’ stands tallest at this moment in time, a taut, excitable, rebounding, stream of consciousness meeting point between the B52s and Pixies, pounding drums and crackling lead guitar line. But you don’t need is to tell you all this. Though it is all true.
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