Jerry Garcia once said, "You do not merely want to be considered just the best of the best. You want to be considered the only ones who do what you do." Cake has theirs' and eats it too: "Showroom of Compassion," their sixth studio album in seventeen years, is as sublime as it is idiosyncratic in the modern music scene.
By no means is "Showroom" an anomaly in the band's catalog. It adheres to many of the elements that have defined Cake for nearly two decades now, and all the songs have the easily recognizable Cake sound. John McCrea's cool, laid−back vocals are here, as are Vince DiFiore's horns and the signature vibraslap (the cowbell's more hip cousin). Xan McCurdy's tasteful and restrained guitar work complements the keyboard lines and Gabe Nelson's punchy and taut bass bounces effervescently underneath it all.
Cake has always been a tight, powerful ensemble, perhaps because of the members' careful, balanced arrangements. No single instrument overpowers the others on its tracks. Their parts move, change and drop in and out, dynamic and constantly engaging.
The upshot to all this is that, having never deviated from this formula as a unit, Cake has spent all of its time honing its songwriting and is able to effortlessly create a wide range of sounds, simply through smart arrangements and dynamic playing. To wit, though "Showroom" sounds like a Cake album, it sounds like no Cake album before it.
Take, for example, the lead single "Sick of You" with the shout−along backing vocals and spoken−word bridge recalling "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" (2001). All of the trademark elements are there, yet the open, ringing chords give a more classic−rock feel than usually found on Cake's records.
Elsewhere, the band's usual cover song (this time a Frank Sinatra number), is imbued with a shimmery, dreamlike quality thanks to a jangling guitar accompaniment. That's to say nothing of the grace with which it's pulled off, fitting so well into the record that "What's Now Is Now" could be mistaken for an original.
Instrumental "Teenage Pregnancy," which starts with a delicate piano melody, expands with horn swells and finishes with a lurching drum rhythm, is the spiritual successor to "Arco Arena" from "Comfort Eagle" (2001) but exceeds it in intensity and drama. Even more adventurous is the trance−like groove of "Federal Funding," with its funky instrumental hooks that augment the song's forward momentum and prevent it from ever getting stale. That Cake pulls it off is quite a feat, as a lesser band would surely fumble it.
The entire album is supported by McCrea's sharp lyrics, which, in traditional Cake fashion, make targets of the trappings of modern society. The aforementioned "Federal Funding" criticizes a wasteful government and the sleazy men who take advantage of it, while "Easy to Crash" laments a society blind to a troubling future as a result of material distractions. Both songs, as well as "Long Time," which outlines a dysfunctional relationship, are accompanied by music appropriately darker in tone, though still energetic and fun.
The closing set of songs is breezier, featuring the instant−classic country number "Bound Away," effortless in its mastery of the form, and "Italian Guy," the titular character of which is unusually simple, earnest and endearing, lending credence to the stately arrangement of staccato strings that cleanses the palate.
There's something very rock ‘n' roll about Cake, despite, or perhaps because of, their humble, non−mainstream sound. They're a rock band of 2011 that resists the tropes and trends of their contemporaries. "Showroom's" production isn't loud or slick, the guitarist doesn't use power chords or bend notes, and the lyrics often point out what's wrong with the world, as if it were the '70s. And even though Cake has been doing the same thing since the early 1990s, to hear such an album today is refreshing and exciting, especially when it is of such impeccable quality.
