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Say what you will about lead singer Ezra Koenig and his precious vocabulary, but at least he sacked up and dumped his manhood on the table right away with album opener “Horchata.” This occurs when he rhymes “horchata” with “balaclava,” “aranciata” and “masada,” a move as indulgent as it is cheeky.
If this was a move to tick off his band’s critics, Koenig and Co. should remember music critics generally love Vampire Weekend, but that Nickelback lovers—the real unit-shifters, the people with no critical clout—likely do not. All they’re doing is alienating the rabble and cementing their mid-list status.
Really, Vampire Weekend, why feed people’s obsession with your milquetoast children-of-privilege aura? Why so many references to futura fonts and private schools unless you want to be known as a “literate,” i.e. sissy band?
There’s something to be said for writing songs that are universal and not merely verbal self-gratification (see also “Oxford,” from their debut album). And Vampire Weekend is a long way from hitting us with any kind of universal feeling. Unless they think their fans’ collective love of aimless summer days will unite us all.
Yet despite my protestations, “Contra” is a solid album. The problem is, I hoped for more. Emphasis on hoped, not expected—because this breezy, 36-minute piece of fluff is exactly what I expected from a young, vaguely hip band following up a critically beloved debut album.
They’ve officially caught “The Strokes disease,” wherein a pretty hip/somewhat successful band follows up a lauded debut with essentially the same album. And the expected supernova becomes a candle flicker.
There’s nothing morally wrong with this. A lot of bands do it. But when you’re anointed a “buzz band” or a “next big thing” and you still appeal to music snobs as Vampire Weekend does, there’s just way too much pressure.
Nowadays, fans demand either progression or hits (the hepcats want both), or it’s off with your head. With this wheel-spinner of an album, I fear these guys won’t survive in the bloody coliseum of instant gratification much longer.
I’d say “shame on them,” but how can you tell a painter who’s only playing with one brush to create a masterpiece with an altogether different instrument? Vampire Weekend’s singular move, and one that they execute very well, is to rape “world music” and create catchy tunes that people can enjoy while they sit on blankets, applying sunscreen. That’s their MO.
Though “Contra” is frivolous and essentially devoid of meaning, Vampire Weekend makes nothing sound more loveable than anyone else currently making records.
“California English” is a likeable song, as dynamic as it is ebullient. Koenig’s voice skitters and scats to a staccato beat, while a violin and cello fill out the pleasant sound.
It’s the perfect summer song, just five months too soon.
The sixth track, “Run,” is another punchy, sunny song about two lovers running away together with the girl’s fund (trust fund, I assume). Another highlight of “Contra” is eighth track “Giving Up The Gun,” about rock music’s power to triumph over violence, augmented by hand drums, a driving double bass and a sweet chorus.
OK, I will stop parsing lyrics: once a band has been name-checked on “90210,” as Vampire Weekend has, a good portion of your fan base is more concerned with pimples and hooking up than the meaning of horchata.
That makes three replayable songs out of 10, folks—not a bad ratio for any album—while the rest is breezy and merely adequate, with no outright horrible songs.
I have a feeling I’ll play this disc a lot more in July and August than I will in the chill of the Wisconsin winter, and that’s cool with me. That just means I don’t think some pleasant Caribbean-light rhythms will make me visualize the summer when I can’t feel my freaking fingers.
“Contra” reached No. 1 on the Billboard 200 sales chart in its opening week, which tells me there were no rap albums of rate released that Tuesday and there were very few major rock releases to compete with. Hell—these days, it’s amazing when anyone pays for your album. Mega-selling behemoths like “Thriller” just don’t happen any more.
So there you have it: Vampire Weekend is the perfect band for 2010, where 124,000 albums sold can gain you a plurality for a week, but no major, U2-type love. So why should a band make a grand statement about the world (like, say, U2) when the world doesn’t love most bands enough to make a “grand statement” (buying an album by the millions) back?
Hey, just enjoy this album like you would a cute boy or girl. Flirt with it; cuddle with it; ask it for tips on how to appropriate world rhythms. Think of it as an May-September romance.
But don’t be surprised when it dumps you for a new drum sound or a good book. Come their next album, Vampire Weekend might sort of “like you like you” all over again.
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