It is difficult to write about an album that I hold in such high regard (my top pick of 2013), as such an exercise is riddled with both subjectivity and personal bias. I would be similarly challenged to gather my thoughts on Reflektor, Shrines, Helplessness Blues, Visions, Bloom, or Channel Orange, for example, but this difficulty is in many ways symbolic of each album's high level of achievement. Modern Vampires should be remembered as a collection of experiences and characters--each unique yet unified by a common aura--where layers of lyricism and production complement themes of faith, regret, and fleeting youth. Perhaps most stunning, however, is the effortless wedding of metaphor and complexity with recognizable pop melodies; we're taught a lesson that doesn't seem forced.
The below is meant as a guide. Colin, thank you for the inspiration.
Sampling Ras Michael's "Keep Cool Babylon," "Obvious Bicycle" is a soothing, reverential opener that (fittingly) hits like ray of light: "Morning's come / you watch the red sun rise / the LED still flickers in your eyes." Just as we commence our journey through Modern Vampires, Koenig addresses a jobless student entering the post-college, corporate world:
Oh, you oughta spare your face the razor,
Because no one's gonna spare the time for you.
You oughta spare the world your labor
It's been twenty years and no one's told the truth.
While the message is elegant, will anyone actually "Listen?"
(2) Unbelievers
From a rhythmic perspective, "Unbelievers" is starkly juxtaposed to (1) above and more reminiscent of the uptempo tracks from 2008's self-titled release (e.g., "Walcott" and, to a lesser degree, "A-Punk"). But the messaging of a "cold, cold world" continues, and here we're introduced to the first of Modern Vampires' many religious undercurrents. Directed at a girl or companion more broadly, VW reminds that for every person or idea in which we believe, there's always someone or something left disappointed or omitted altogether; it is inevitable, therefore, that we all die unbelievers:
We know the fire awaits unbelievers
All of the sinners, the same
Girl you and I will die unbelievers
bound to the tracks of the train
At first listen, "Unbelievers" plays like a fast-paced and joyous summer anthem (it's almost too easy to envision Batmanglij furiously striking the keys in a live performance). But the marriage of accessibility and intrigue is precisely what makes it work.
(3) Step
Some history: oddly enough, "Step" was originally inspired by the Souls of Mischief (SoM) track "Step to My Girl," a song that ironically only made it to a 12" promo (vs. appearing on any of SoM's five full-length albums). It turns out that the original SoM track borrowed the lyrics of the main refrain ("Every time I see you in the world / You always step to my girl") from new-school rapper YZ and sampled a classic Grover Washington, Jr. saxophone track, "Audrey," for the production. "Audrey," in turn, employs the ground bass of Pachelbel's timeless Canon in D. For the cinéastes out there, the official lyrics video published in March begins with the same Jessica Hische-designed font as the title cards in Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom.
"Step" serves as a witty representation of EK's--or arguably the band's--evolution, from the halls of Columbia ("Back back way back I used to front") to the present day. It seems plausible that EK is addressing the naivete of his past self, practically admitting to relationship-ending egotism. Now, however, he looks to fill the void:
The gloves are off, the wisdom teeth are out
What you on about?
I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my bones
I'm stronger now, I'm ready for the house
Such a modest mouse,
I can't do it alone, I can't do it alone
The backdrop of course is Manhattan ("I can still see them there huddled on Astor"), where the tale of self-induced regret rings true more than anywhere else. Similar to VW's "M79" and the majority of Beach House's Teen Dream, the combination of harpsichord staccato, keys, and drums provides an enchanting foundation upon which Koenigs emotions--and our own--pour out.
(4) Diane Young
Clearly one of the most frantic and energetic VW tracks (and videos) to date, the majority of "Diane Young" (read: Dyin' Young) chronicles the experiences of a madcap doing everything from torching Saabs to escaping government agents before "tottering off into that good night." But, as often the case, the final verse brings us back to reality:
Nobody knows what the future holds
And it's bad enough just getting old
Live my life in self-defense
You know I love the past, 'cause I hate suspense...
It's no secret that some plow through life with little account for their actions, while others live in the past or in constant self-defense. While the track doesn't offer the answer to finding balance, it sure makes a convincing argument for having a good time. And if you're not a fan of track, take comfort in the fact that VW, too, had little conviction in the original demo; rather, co-producer Ariel Rechtshaid--the man behind two more of 2013's best albums, Haim's Days are Gone and Sky Ferreira's Night Time, My Time--heard some potential and pushed for the song's inclusion (as a single no less).
(5) Don't Lie
EK has said that "Don't Lie" is meant as a sequel to "M79" and "White Sky" from Vampire Weekend and Contra, respectively, all three of which include a multitude of the band's cryptic New York references. The organ and harpsichord pair perfectly with the mildly-discouraging (and by now familiar) thought that life cannot be paused:
I want to know, does it bother you?
The low click of a ticking clock
There's a lifetime right in front of you
And everyone I know
Listening to "Don't Lie" on the coldest day of the year is only fitting; it is indeed a challenge to make the fire last.
(6) Hannah Hunt
The structure is delicate and pace slow, at least for the first two minutes. After a brief intro of indeterminable static, the curtains part to major chords and simple bass plucks as EK recounts a road trip with a girl ("Hannah Hunt") from Providence, RI to Phoenix AZ. He describes landmarks (Waverly and Lincoln, NE and Santa Barbara) and encounters (man of faith, crawling vines/weeping willows, NYTimes kindling) along the way, all of which set the stage for the raw and unrestrained final ballad:
If I can't trust you then damn it, Hannah
There's no future, there's no answer
Though we live on the US dollar
You and me, we got our own sense of time
While the notion of time and the "ticking clock" have been recurring themes in each of the previous five tracks (and will be in the remaining six), here EK has, at least momentarily, found his own sense of time.
(7) Everlasting Arms
A modern take on Anthony J. Showalter and Elisha A. Hoffman's 1887 hymn "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" (you may recall a version of the original hymn by Iris DeMent was featured at the end of the Coen Brothers' 2010 film True Grit), "Everlasting Arms" continues the religious thoughts of "Unbelievers." Specifically, the track addresses the internal strife of one's own beliefs versus those prescribed by a community of faith:
I thought it over and drew the curtain
Leave me to myself, leave me to myself
And I’ll only consider it as you played the hallelujah
Leave me to myself, leave me to myself
In EK's own words: "You lose some sense of your own ability to reason and your own individuality when you become part of a group. Religion is a great jumping-off point for thinking about how to live, period." The hymnal influence adds to the song's authenticity.
(8) Finger Back
Arguably the album's most danceable track (along with "Diane Young"), at least a portion of "Finger Back" is a true story about EK's friend's roomate, an Orthodox Jewish girl, who fell in love with an Arab worker at a falafel shop close to Columbia (Jerusalem on 103rd & Broadway). While it scandalized her family, she was willing to deal with it; EK has described the story in interviews with NME as a "Romeo and Juliet" love story. Although the remainder of the song is up for interpretation, with lyrics spewing at lazer speed in L'homme Run fashion, in most verses EK scoffs at critics of his early work: "Listen to my bum rap / Listen to the evidence exonerating me from being right."
(9) Worship You
The fiery tempo of the Persian raga-inspired drum riff and electro synth (starting @ 1:46) continue the energy of (8), but the track as a whole is much less anecdotal, instead focusing on the broader scenario of what happens when we lose someone or something we love or "worship:"
We worshipped you,
Your red right hand
Won’t we see you once again?
In foreign soil, in foreign land,
Who will guide us through the end?
In interviews, EK has hinted that the song is both a specific commentary on American foreign policy (which admittedly seems logical) and a review of the more general emotions produced when one's faith is shattered.
(10) Ya Hey
This track has justifiably garnered the most attention since first posted in May. Instead of musing on Congo dance rhythms, horchata, or grammar, however, the focus here is the greatness of God (Ya Hey = Yaweh). In typical VW fashion, "Ya Hey" embeds abstract spiritual theology in a five minute pop song, complete with chipmunk distortion. Maybe we are a nation of "Unbelievers:"
Oh, you saint
America don't love you
So I could never love you
In spite of everything
(11) Hudson
A somber song about the death of the 17th century English explorer and navigator, Henry Hudson, who was cast overboard with his son and seven others by mutineers in 1611. It's a dark homage to New York, where our constant race against time ("The time has come / The clock is such a drag") inevitably ends in the Hudson.
(12) Young Lion
The simple walk down the scale with repetitive bass octaves to commence Modern Vampire's closing track promotes a feeling of hopefulness and inner reflection. It makes us feel alone in a positive sense, as if we're the only beings privileged to hear the album's final message. "Young Lion" succeeds in that it provides closure, but not a permanent or finite end; instead, it plays more like a virtue assuring that with patience comes reward. The story goes that in the final weeks of recording Contra in late 2009, an anonymous man approached a tired and stressed Koenig in the recording studio, saying simply: "You take your time, young lion." EK, touched, subsequently relayed the quote to Rostam, who wrote the song.