Alight of Night

We Say...

Review by Yancey Strickler

A mere ten years or so after its invention, rock & roll was bored of itself. The Velvet Underground sighed through rock's paces like childhood chores, their sensibilities too refined for robust exclamations of joy, pleasure or excitement. They approached the music with the same basic tools as the garage rock bands of the day (the Seeds, the Action, the Creation — potent names all), but that teenage exuberance that remains unwearied on oldies radio today was as alien to them as they were to the rest of the world.

Boredom can either be laconic or vengeful — it has equally inspired sloth and violence, seemingly contrary notions that are closer than you'd think. Like the Velvet Underground, the Crystal Stilts wallow between the two — siding with sloth if forced to choose, but uncommitted in the end. There's an exhaustion in their songs that feels more appropriate by the listen; this music simply wouldn't work if it mustered a single yelp or squeal from band member or crowd. And the Stilts are obviously committed to the mood: "Crippled Croon," the comparatively exuberant pop hit from this spring's eMusic-exclusive Selects EP was one of the only tunes to not make their full-length debut. (It's an omission I still find curious and misguided, but at least there's a philosophical bent behind it.)

The very good Alight of Night doesn't need cheap thrills to impress. Thrills there certainly are ("Bright Night," "Crystal Stilts" and "Prismatic Room" all have an upward tilt, and each is excellent), but the majority of Alight builds off of the Crystal Stilts EP, a thoroughly introspective and determinedly serious collection that clearly did not give a fuck about whether you choose to listen to it or not. It's almost confrontational in its unwillingness to open up: "If you don't get this you weren't supposed to anyway," it seems to say.

But the dirty truth is that, if anything, the joke is on the Stilts, who despite themselves write great pop songs with even better arrangements. They have an uncanny knack for organ parts, and even when the pipes exit, singer Brad Hargett's voice itself has "organ"-ic qualities: no edges, all rounded corners, no beginnings or ends. And even at their least inspired, JB Townsend's chug-a-chug guitar is all reluctant kinetic energy, impossible to ignore. There's still plenty to learn, for sure — "Departure," for instance, is an unneeded re-recording of the Selects EP's awesome "Converging in the Quiet" — but Alight of Night is a big step forward, whether they like it or not.