Artist: Headphones
Release: Headphones
Label: Suicide Squeeze
Rating: +5 (on a scale of -5 to +5

headphones

Headphones is Gold Bond for your soul.

It keeps you safe, dry and minty, occasionally makes you tingle and provides genuine healing power. And we don’t need any “proof” of this healing power. We know. We can feel it when we’re walking briskly on a summer’s day and we don’t even bother to check the back label. (Sorry to venture into Emily Haines territory with the overdrawn metaphor. But, rest assured, it could have been worse. If it was Emily Haines it would have been some rambling, “edgy” tale about the Secret Lives of String Beans and Ghosts and she would be trying to convince us it’s an uber-deep sociopolitical statement. Eeeeeeewww.)

So, why am I reviewing this record over a year after its release?

Who gives a shit? I’m starting a new genre of journalism called “myopic retro revisionism.” It’s a new craze. It’s hip. All the buckle-shoed, broccolli-band-clad Banharts in Silver Lake are doing it. (And each other. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

Around the time of Pedro the Lion’s lurching rock’n'roll behemoth, Control, David Bazan expressed that he initially intended to make a simple, analog synth-driven record. Though that must have fallen by the wayside at some point, Headphones just goes to show that you can only suppress your inner Kraftwerk for so long before it comes creeping back, like an 8th grade boner in biology class. After all, a new world of possibilities in burning up your innards.

Bazan’s songs really feel at home in this setting. The synths are clean and precise, outlining some fucking immaculate chord progressions and providing counter-melody while the drums are given room to expertly guide the dynamics. The vocals, then, have a very eagle-soaring-over-a-canyon-in-a-Disney-movie-about-rambunctious-cartoon-animals quality. Bazan’s voice is generally the lone humanizing presence in these songs and the pitch-perfect, minimalistic keys tend to emphasize nuances in his vocals that would easily be covered up if paired with walls of guitar.

This record, for what I can see, isn’t a concept album like Winners Never Quit or (arguably) Control. Each set of lyrics is completely self-sustaining (like Bio-Dome, if you will) and the only overriding theme would seem to be 2 synths, 1 drum kit and the occasional expertly placed shaker, tambourine or harmony vocal. This draws the listener’s attention, after repeated listens, to the fact that this is a strikingly diverse batch of songs. The mood shifts drastically from track to track and each avenue is explored to its natural conclusion and promptly abandoned before having any chance to become stale or tiresome. The replay value is amazing.

The lyrics are…well, they’re written by David Bazan. He’s better than sliced bread. He’s better than that half-eaten box of Entenmann’s donuts you’re hiding from your roommate. He’s better than 99.9% of all songwriters, man or beast, and on Headphones he’s in top form. I’d talk about the lyrics but that’d be like creeping into an unsuspecting family’s household at 5am on Christmas and unwrapping all their presents while they sleep. Nobody wants that.

Yours,
Torquil Crossingham