Proverbial “haters” are always going to hate when it comes to Vampire Weekend. They come off as a pretty lame, “surface level” band to be into, and their preppy aesthetic is proof to many of the ivy league nepotism that has invaded indie music. Part of Vampire Weekend’s initial charm was based on their status as Columbia grads (which, to a state university sophomore made them annoying and their popularity unfair), and on their appropriation of afrobeat music (a troubling matter in its own right). That they have remained so relevant post-2008 is a testament perhaps to their unyielding aesthetic, perhaps to their publicists – perhaps even to their music. The first and last have hardly ever been more succinctly played off one another by any band than on Modern Vampires of the City. And if we are to judged and review an album based on the extent to which it achieves what it is attempting to accomplish, and also on the extent to which what has been attempted s is novel and rich, then Modern Vampires of the City is a stunning achievement.
Opening duo “Obvious Bicycle” and the very fleshed out 2012 preview “Unbelievers” set the table politely for Modern Vampires’ belabored aesthetic; they are almost overwhelmingly warm and chamber-inclined, without going overboard and becoming too musically insistent. These songs are a technical achievement in that such gossamer tones are evoked without relying on the hissy comfort of dated-sounding analog recordings. With “Unbelievers” Ezra Koenig establishes a lyrical precedent as well, giving us direct evocations of religious imagery that are still ambiguous enough to be musings on a romance or a poor mark in a class. The ambiguity is maintained throughout Modern Vampires (does “Everlasting Arms” refer to an unyielding love or to a literal eternity?), but a more directly theosophical bent takes shape on later tracks (“Ya Hey” especially). Koenig seems to mostly be interested not in losing of faith (an over-plowed field for lyricists), but in the literal, cultural constraints that religion seems to put on people (see: an orthodox girl falls in love with a falafel shop employee on “Finger Back”) and also in the way a society saturated with religion has warped our view of death. References to death crop up on just about every song, but the religious imagery invoked is a warm, friendly mix of library-locked classicism and slivers of modern conservative Judaism.
But when Koenig sings “Hudson died in Hudson bay, the water took its victim’s name” – the lyrics that kicks off the chamber and dub-indebted “Hudson” – we get the feeling that even our most powerful and ancient testaments to god’s might can be discarded and dissolved as easily as a human body can. And the amped delivery of “Don’t Lie” disguises a chilly metaphors about one-way exits from youth as a cheerful anthem for the 20-something set, complete with a Dirty Projectors-referencing guitar outro. But then removed from all of this we have Modern Vampires’ most legitimate centerpiece, “Hannah Hunt”; a meditation on longings for itinerancy, with the image of a New York Times being torn into kindling existing as a sort of tearaway from the reality we supposedly must inhabit if we’re listening to this album.
With the help of (relative) recording vet Ariel Rechtshaid, producer and multi-instrumentalist Rostam Batmanglij defenestrated much of the production aesthetic of both Vampire Weekend and the slightly insufferable Contra. Because of their work, I suspect that Modern Vampires is an album that will come into its full aesthetic significance in the middle of next winter; it is almost the opposite of Vampire Weekend’s very “summer in the Hamptons” vibe. Modern Vampires is far more urban, but urban in the sense of remaining confined to a candelabra-lit room in the Columbia library. Sure, we’re up in Harlem, but there’s a huge and increasingly obvious divide between the neoclassical confines of Morningside Heights and east 125th street. On Modern Vampires, Vampire Weekend (Koenig in particular) seem to confront this, though it is with a kind of grim, “well what do you expect from me?” ambivalence that makes the record all the more sharp.
What Modern Vampires of the City doesn’t manage to do is to top the musical ingenuity cultivated on Vampire Weekend; Ezra Koenig’s sharp, tropical punk guitar playing is sorely missed. Modern Vampires feels like a less original songwriting effort on Koenig’s and Batmanglij’s part, thought perhaps a more inspired one; much of the album’s startling power is derived from fairly on-the-nose reference points, rather than tricky amalgamations. Modern Vampires does succeed to present a more complete aesthetic than Vampire Weekend, and it is definitely a more straightforward pop album. The lyrical aesthetic, too, has evolved from fairly petty – if clever – Salingerized observations about class to the aforementioned dialectic between ambiguous feelings about religion and very clear ones about death. Has the word “Babylon” ever been uttered so many times on an album? Only Leonard Cohen could come close; unlike Cohen, though, Koenig would treat George Michael and Modest Mouse with as much sly reverence as he would Nebuchadnezzar.
Vampire Weekend have made and continue to make the kind of music that I try to revolt against with my criticism, because it is not appropriated by listeners in a way that expands their musical dialog. No one is doing Vampire Weekend any favors by justifying their album through terms usually reserved for the more experimental set. This is not a band that has “come into their own”, nor have they defied the expectations associated with major pop acts. Musically, there is nothing particularly eclectic or subversive about Modern Vampires of the City, and the fact that it is so lyrically pointed just speaks to the sorry state of lyricists in modern indie. Vampire Weekend will continue to receive a lot of backlash because of their boat shoe aesthetic, and because of the privilege they bring with them to their music. And their music may not seem to speak for anyone other than other children of privilege with the luxury of post-college blues, but at least it does so in a that doesn’t talk down to its listeners; rather than obfuscate its borders with niceties, Vampire Weekend give their perspective and they can’t be faulted for that. This isn’t a musical revolution by any means; Modern Vampires of the City is still less musically interesting than even the most reviled Animal Collective albums. But this is a great pop album and, even in its moments of weakness, it manages to keep you fully engaged and fully entranced by the haughty theatrics.
4.5/5 bars
Vampire Weekend – “Don’t Lie”
05 – Don’t Lie
Vampire Weekend – “Hudson”
11 – Hudson
