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It
only took six albums, three EPs, countless singles, four or five
record labels, a much-adored side project, numerous guest productions,
and a thoroughly boring solo LP to get to this point, but Death Cab for
Cutie will end 2008 as a big-font festival band. And yet, though their
sound has grown increasingly muscular, and their outdoor sets tend to
only reach as far back as "We Laugh Indoors", they still seem ill-suited
to those wide-open spaces. As I sat and watched two high out of their
minds, shirtless, thirty something acid-trip casualties make out during
Coachella while a rickety version of "Soul Meets Body" played in the
distance, it just seemed to go against everything Death Cab has come to
stand for. In other words, they still manage to carry themselves like a
small band from a tiny Washington college town. Upon re-release, the
most striking aspects about Death Cab's debut, Something About
Airplanes, were how modest it sounded and how removed it was from the
Modest Mouse/Built to Spill template of the Pacific Northwest. If there
was any resemblance to their regional forefathers, it was in their
ability to create a sonic blueprint that's subtly innovative. Few were
writing lyrics— formed almost as complete sentences and melodically
structured the same— like Death Cab's Ben Gibbard at the time. The
bridge of "President of What?" sounds like it's taking the wrong step
with each chord turn, moving in an opposite direction to the melody, but
the resolution makes complete sense: "Nothing hurts like nothing at all/
When imagination takes full control."
In a strikingly candid
interview with Paste magazine, Gibbard admitted that he goes back to
this record and rarely has any idea what he was talking about. While
it's typical for a lyricist to embrace straightforwardness in his later
years, recent tracks like "You Can Do Better Than Me" are no more
rewarding for their directness. Something About Airplanes instead sounds
like a private affair, which is one reason it's so treasured amongst
diehards. Like so many other fledgling songwriters, Gibbard cloaked his
voice in reverb and occasional distortion (even on the sweet and sour
harmonies of "Pictures in an Exhibition") and danced around sentiment.
For a band inextricably linked with heart-on-sleeve emoting, Death Cab
could be delectably difficult to parse.
You
can also hear how naturally and incrementally the group progressed
from a fully formed blueprint. Regardless of Narrow Stairs' heavy-handed
addition of new textures, you can trace a straight line to that point
from the carefully considered guitar lattices of Airplanes' "Your
Bruise". "Sleep Spent" is a direct descendent of mid-90s slow-core with
better hooks. "Amputations", the most full-bodied track, features
rumbling and almost mockingly chiming guitar hooks that sugarcoat the
lyrics "he's unresponsive 'cause you're irresponsible"— a stronger
precursor to their more recent theater sing-along lines like "you are
beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me."
While
the deluxe CD package does include selections from their nervous
first live show in Seattle and a cover of the Smiths' famous "Sweet and
Tender Hooligan" which also features Harvey Danger's mate Sean Nelson—
the real draw here is the chance to re-evaluate the band itself, who are
often underrated or deemed as a group people "used to like" before
getting into harder and more challenging music. And yet, while most of
the indie crowd now embraces pop music in all its forms, something about
dudes like Death Cab, who hit a little close to home but aren't
considered "cool," is still considered to be a deal breaker. Certainly,
Something About Airplanes isn't Death Cab's best album— in retrospect,
it sounds like a dry run for 2000's We Have the Facts and We're Voting
Yes, where the lyrics got more pointed, the hooks more emphatic, and the
dirges more steely and purposeful. The studio tricks would become more
sympathetic as well: In addition to the dated samples that adorn
"President of What?", "Amputations" closes with a snippet of a
motivational record called "You Can Better Your Best" that proclaims "if
everybody's making fun of you or criticizing, you know you're on the
right track." Granted, the song itself is about the futility of becoming
someone you're not to win someone over, but the line unwittingly serves
as a mission statement for a band that went Gold while rarely answering
to anyone but itself.
Death Cab for Cutie originally formed in Bellingham, WA, in 1997
with their casette-only Elsinor Records release, you can play these
songs with chords (later expanded and reissued by Barsuk on CD). The
group, which appropriated its name from a song title by '60s UK rock
ensemble The Bonzo Dog Band, has consistently released outstanding
albums over the years, gaining a wider audience and seeping into the
consciousness of mainstream America with the success of their latest
albums, the most recent of which were released by Atlantic Records. The
band remains a core member of the Barsuk family, however, and released
their 2005 album plans on double 180 gram LP (complete with the
vinyl-only bonus track talking like turnstiles), and will be releasing
their most recent album, narrow stairs on 180 gram vinyl soon. In
addition to the Ben Gibbard lo-fi solo project All-Time Quarterback CD
reissue from a few years back, this year we also released the Chris
Walla solo project, field manual, as well as the Steve Fisk & Benjamin
Gibbard score to the film Kurt Cobain About a Son.
The
reissue of Death Cab’s 1998 debut album, Something About Airplanes,
is available right now. This limited 10 year anniversary deluxe CD
edition includes a cool bonus disc featuring a recently-unearthed
recording (as in blow the dust off of)... of the band’s first-ever
Seattle show, a smooth February 1998 set at the legendary venue The
Crocodile Café. The reissue also features beautifully redesigned
artwork, including extensive liner notes by noted musician and writer
Sean Nelson (whose band Harvey Danger was the headliner of the bonus
disc show, and who sings lead vocals on the DCfC set’s
never-before-heard cover of The Smiths’ sweet and tender hooligan).
Still considered by many fans to be DCfC's very best album, but
criminally unheard by many newer converts other than the handful of
songs that remain staples of the band's live set (amputations, pictures
in an exhibition, fake frowns), something about airplanes is not just a
document of a particular time in the band's history or of a bygone era
of indie-rock— it's an enduring work featuring some of the band's finest
songs. UB
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