Release Date: August 05, 2014
Label: Loma Vista
A generally unconventional act, Spoon nevertheless made a name for themselves the old-fashioned way: In an era when most rock bands peak prematurely both artistically and commercially, this Austin ensemble instead slowly got better, which in turn helped them gradually build their audience. Think of it: Spoon didnât start out actualizing their tense and clipped yet ruggedly voluptuous chirr until their third album, Girls Can Tell, in 2001, the same year that the Strokes instantly maxed out on Is This It. Leader Britt Daniel clearly spent some time studying Can, Wire, Lennon, Costello, the Cure, the Zombies, plus a slew of classic R&B, but no one else since sings like him. As Spoon have exponentially expanded their fanbase, theyâve only become more like themselves â a nearly singular achievement for a 21st century guitar band, particularly for one that’s actually played on the radio.
Now fleshed out to a five-piece with Alex Fischel, guitarist/keyboardist from Danielâs side project Divine Fits, Spoon return after their longest gap with They Want My Soul. Unlike any of their previous albums, their eighth bares the sonic stamp of outside studio help, particularly that of Dave Fridmann, who oversees four tracks, and mixes four of the other six. Both Spoon and the ubiquitous Flaming Lips collaborator have long favored loud drums, but Daniel & Co. also flaunt guitars that are neatly staccato and fastidiously controlled: thatâs their tension, their sonic signature. Fridmann, on the other hand, favors brutal distortion that artfully obfuscates nearly everything in a wash of psychedelic scuzz. How can two such opposite aesthetic approaches be reconciled?
Soul achieves the nearly impossible with Spoonâs most eclectic set yet. It emphasizes this diversity by opening with a track, âRent I Pay,â that’s so traditionally rockinâ itâs practically a Stones tribute, and then follows it with the bandâs most contemporary and overt detour yet. Leading with blatantly synthetic strings, dreamy harp-like tinkling, an early â80s disco bassline, some feather-light/ukulele-like strumming, and a quantized, robot-perfect drumbeat, âInside Outâ undulates with unabashed synthpop ballad lushness. According to Daniel, itâs the most beautiful thing theyâve done. Heâs right.
Spoon found their footing when they went hi-fi, and they raise that bar here: The extreme stereo separation of âRainy Taxiâ matters just as much as what is, for this band, an uncommonly easy-to-follow and romantic lyric: âWhen you stand beside me/ I can tell Iâm stronger than Iâve ever been.â Their newly modern drums rub up against acoustic strumming both on âDo Youâ and âKnock Knock Knock,â the latter featuring feedback squeals so deliciously awry that effects pedal nerds will certainly debate their creation. Morrissey producer Joe Chiccarelli chips in for the overtly power-poppinâ title track, but Fridmannâs mixing hand skews the results so that theyâre even more tweaked-out than his own stuff. Thatâs not a duel being staged in the songâs instrumental climax: Itâs a full-on guitar argument sputtering between the speakers. The Beatles themselves mayâve covered Vegas dynamo Ann Margretâs fluke 1961 fuzz-toned hit âI Just Donât Understand,â but Spoon turn in the definitive version via a plink-plonking honky tonk piano and Danielâs masterfully bitter and snarling vocal. He doesnât position himself as a soul singer, but he sure is one here.

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Like the rest of the best, âOutlierâ steps far beyond Spoonâs stylistic norm: It fades up on the albumâs stickiest hook and Spoonâs most overt dance groove, one probably plucked from the Stone Rosesâ Madchester funk blast âFools Gold.â As its title suggests, the lyric concerns an aloof, yet dependable connoisseur: âYou never played us wrong or stayed too long.â Thatâs Spoon in a nutshell, a band whose reliability is matched by their concision. âWhat happened to you, kid?â Daniel however chides, as if preemptively offering the criticism thatâs sure to come from familiarity-craving followers disappointed by his newly wayward ways. He neednât have worried: Soul deftly blends caprice with the ensembleâs usual care. Anything featuring Danielâs scrunched-up, uncommonly expressive yelp and high-strung guitar canât help but be Spoon-y.