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The Tufts Daily
Where you read it first | Wednesday, September 18, 2024

Loyalty to Loyalty' is scarier than the Cuban Missile Crisis for Cold War fans

Cold War Kids may have found the musical opposite of "easy listening." This quartet from Fullerton, Calif. has released a raw, searing, but frequently abrasive album in their second studio LP, "Loyalty to Loyalty."

In spite of its title, "Loyalty" may turn out to be the problem child, even though it frequently feels and sounds similar to the band's debut, "Robbers and Cowards" (2006). Where its older brother kicked open the doors with the infectiously catchy "We Used to Vacation," "Loyalty" barely registers with the ambiguously political first track, "Against Privacy." This half-hearted, vague homage to Radiohead, which front-man Nathan Willett has described as a strong influence, could have found meaning later in the album, but lacks the power to open it.

To their credit, Cold War Kids rise from this inauspicious introduction like a boxer off the ropes, unleashing a salvo of four consecutive tracks that not only pack a punch, but occasionally feature a half-decent melody as well. The driving thump and desperate rising chords of "Mexican Dogs" smoothly give way to the bluesy "Every Valley is Not a Lake." This rollicking, barrelhouse piano number, more typical of the band's unique style, effortlessly falls into different rhythms. When the pulsing, almost radio-friendly single, "Something is Not Right with Me" bursts out, fans of "Robbers" will find themselves in seemingly familiar territory.

The momentum and angst levels continue to register through "Welcome to the Occupation," with a driving rhythm section to compliment Willett's heavy-handed lyrics: "Whistle-blowers, we know how you feel/ Public servants, surrender their free will." Disappointingly, its chorus takes itself far too seriously: "And I give up raising your kids, America/ You treat 'em like an obligation/ Welcome to the occupation."

"Loyalty" quickly starts to lose steam with the slow, honky-tonk piano blues of "Golden Gate Jumpers," a gently melodic number about suicides committed from the heights of San Francisco's most famous bridge.

At that point, "Loyalty to Loyalty," a promising second album from a talented — if unconventional — indie rock band, takes an artistic dive into a yawning chasm of mediocrity. It feels like going from the genius first half of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' (RHCP) "Californication" (1999) to that album's less-than-stellar side B; except that RHCP's Anthony Kiedis at least tried to be on key, whereas Cold War Kids' Willett seems to prefer casting about for the correct note. If this is considered "soul," Sam Cooke and Marvin Gaye must be spinning in their graves.

The unbearably slow, atonal "Avalanche in B" nearly destroys the credibility that the band has built with the first six tracks, as Willett's wailing belt sadistically assaults the listener. Two instrumentally strong tracks, "I've Seen Enough" and "Dreams Old Men Dream" try to reclaim the album, but there is a clear feeling of disintegration. The second-to-last song, "Relief," attempts and nearly succeeds to win over listeners — but only until they realize that the track is just a dressed-up re-hash of last year's single, "Hang Me Up to Dry," tragically featuring Willett's ludicrous falsetto.

Ultimately, it is Willett's self-indulgent, over-the-top wailing that seals the deal. This is not to say that abrasive vocalists cannot handle rock ‘n' roll; one can take a look at the growing success of bands such as The Hold Steady, whose singer Craig Finn often growls his lines in a gravelly assault.

But where Finn's vocal delivery serves an insightful narrative, Willett often waxes ambiguous. On a number of tracks, he irritatingly belts full-throttle when he should allow the band's sound to speak for him and compensate for his less-than-profound lyrics.

As Willett continues to shove his inadequacies into listeners' ears on "Loyalty to Loyalty," Cold War Kids venture onto the thin ice that separates non-conformist rock bands from unbearably experimental indie artists.