I’ve always been aware of the existence of The New Pornographers, but year after year they have slipped under my radar; pushed aside in favor of music that I, for whatever reason, had more confidence in. I may have heard a song of theirs over the years, but nothing stuck. No animosity towards the band, but more no feelings at all. So it is odd that I find myself presented with their newest, and fifth, album. How does one approach a band that has existed for so long and has established a loyal fanbase without the proper introduction? I can only say that I regret I had not bothered beforehand.
I can’t speak for how this album lines up to the remainder of their catalog, but for my own money, I found it to be fantastic. I mean it as no small compliment to say that, in its best moments, the album can gravitate to some magical sound that beats like Village Green-era Kinks hired Ted Leo to help song-write. How about The Hold Steady with less liquor on his breath? The point is, The New Pornographers are in safe auditory company. However, in what is somewhat a byproduct on this sound, the album gels. I remember I liked a lot of the songs, but then two tracks would pass and I didn’t even notice. That means nothing contained within is offensively awful, but just occasionally uninspired. The tracks that do stand out are left just being a matter of opinion. There is no chosen one that towers above the rest with catchiness and commercial potential. Instead, we have a consistently enjoyable album which never seems to venture too far away from safety.
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The biggest challenge of this genre though lies in repeated listens. It’s almost too early to tell what will become the tracks I remember, the ones I hum for the rest of the day. But I want to know, and I’ll continue to listen.
(Matador Records, 304 Hudson, 7th Floor, New York, NY 10013)