The Walkmen Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
The Walkmen took a working holiday from their usual sound on their remake of Harry Nilsson's Pussy Cats and, to a lesser extent, on the Dylan-goes-Latin vibe of A Hundred Miles Off, but they return to more familiar territory on You & Me. Quite literally, too: the band revisited the same studio where they laid down Bows + Arrows for some of this album's sessions. However, travel is one of You & Me's major themes, with beaches, holidays, and provinces placing these songs all over the map. That plays perfectly into the Walkmen's uncanny ability to conjure specific places in their music: "Donde Esta La Playa," from its turista title to its deconstructed surf guitars to lyrics like "there is still sand in my suitcase/there is still salt in my teeth," plays like blurry but vivid memories -- and proof that not everything that happens on vacation stays on vacation. Grotto-like reverb gives "Postcards from Tiny Islands"' riotous guitars a nostalgic twinge only heightened by small but telling details like "the bar band and their sorry songs." The Walkmen also travel through different sounds on You & Me: "Red Moon"'s gentle acoustic guitars and brass give it a subtly Latin feel, while "Canadian Girl"'s dreamy warmth suggests a vintage soul single that's been tucked away for decades in a forgotten jukebox. You & Me's return to the Walkmen's usual shadowy, introspective moodiness feels like a cloud covering the sun, especially after the drunken wake of Pussy Cats. Fortunately, that cloudiness suits these songs, particularly "On the Water," a darkly pretty ballad lit by faintly shimmering keyboards, and "In the New Year," which sets a bruised melody to jubilant organ swells that only sound more poignant together. Despite a few louder moments like "Seven Years of Holidays (For Stretch)"'s shambling waltz and "Blue Route"'s gut-punching drums, You & Me delves deeply into the evocative ballads that have made the band fascinating since Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone. The album closes with a trio of them, with the spare jangle of "New Country" and "If Only It Were True"'s final declaration "I'll die in dreams of you" ending You & Me on a somberly sweet note. This may or may not be the Walkmen's prettiest album, but it's certainly their loneliest. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
'Pussy Cats'
Release Date 10/23/2006
Tracks 11
Label Record Collection
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Remaking an entire album -- especially one as rooted in mood and the performers involved as Harry Nilsson's Pussy Cats -- seems about as wise an idea as Gus Van Sant's shot-by-shot remake of Psycho. Fortunately, the Walkmen's song-by-song redo of Pussy Cats doesn't come off as a half-baked technical exercise. The band remains loyal to the rambling feel of the original (which, to be fair, was half covers itself) and the results are as intimate as an in-joke between old friends. The Walkmen recorded this album concurrently with A Hundred Miles Off and were getting ready to shut down their Marcata Studio; while it's not exactly the months-long "lost weekend" that Nilsson and John Lennon embarked on in early 1974, Hamilton Leithauser and crew give off a similarly rumpled, tweedy, maybe too smart for their own good vibe as Nilsson did, and invite a bunch of friends, including Ian Svenonius and Mazarin's Quentin Stoltzfus, to help them send Marcata off. Interestingly, one of the stronger moments on A Hundred Miles Off was the band's cover of Mazarin's "Another One Goes By," so the spirit of having fun interpreting other people's music was already flowing by the time they approached Pussy Cats. And while the band's versions of these songs aren't much different than the originals, they do them well: Svenonius' cameo on "Subterranean Homesick Blues" helps make it a goofy highlight, along with Stolzfus' collaboration on "Mucho Mongo/Mt. Elga," which with its tropical percussion and shimmering organs, seems to have been a big influence on A Hundred Miles Off. Likewise, Pussy Cats' rare moody moments, "Don't Forget Me" and "Black Sails," are also perfect fits for the band's sound. A little messier than its inspiration but with the same freewheeling spirit, the Walkmen's Pussy Cats feels like a musical wake, rooted in just having fun making music with friends. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Shaking off the wintry fog of Bows + Arrows like a parka come springtime, the Walkmen return with A Hundred Miles Off, an album of lighter, brighter songs that still maintain the band's fantastic sense of atmosphere. The Walkmen's odd, endearing ability to be noisy and nuanced, belligerent and bittersweet at the same time made Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone and Bows + Arrows two of the most distinctive-sounding albums of the 2000s. Here, they tweak a few elements of their sound, and while it's not a radical overhaul, the differences are significant. Matt Barrick's outstanding drumming and percussion and Hamilton Leithauser's raspy croon are the stars of this show, resulting in an album that's more like the Walkmen's concerts than the meticulously crafted sound of their other albums. A Hundred Miles Off feels downright summery, from the Dylan-meets-mariachi-band vibe of "Louisiana" to the tropical rhythms and djembe that pepper "Brandy Alexander." There's also less reliance on the band's once-ubiquitous keyboards, with the notable exceptions of the poignant organ swells on "Emma, Get Me a Lemon" and "All Hands and the Cook," which switches between a rickety saloon piano and horror-show organs. And though there's nothing quite as furious as "The Rat" on A Hundred Miles Off, most of the album shies away from Bows + Arrows' slow-mo introspection, especially in its middle section: "Lost in Boston," "Don't Get Me Down (Come on Over Here)," and the surprisingly thrashy "Tenley-Town" -- which even features a drum solo! -- all showcase the bigger, more powerful sound that seems to be A Hundred Miles Off's raison d'être. Even so, the Walkmen still find room for some of their more typically brooding, elliptical vignettes, of which "Danny's at the Wedding," with its slinky bassline and percussion, is the standout. While the album's other blurry mood pieces are well done, they feel a tad repetitive, especially compared to the newer ideas the band tries. The songwriting on A Hundred Miles Off might be a shade less memorable than on the Walkmen's other albums, a feeling that is underscored by the final track, "Another One Goes By." It's a terrific song that sounds like a scratchy, slightly-melted 45 of some long-lost blue-eyed soul single and takes the band's music in a more mature (but not self-consciously so) direction. It's also a cover of a song by the Walkmen's friends Mazarin. The Walkmen certainly aren't slouches when it comes to writing unique songs, either, but "Another One Goes By" shows just how amazing they can be when their material is equal to their expressive sound. Nevertheless, it's a highlight on an album that's a grower, from a band whose sound is still growing. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Even though this is the second time around on a major label for most of the Walkmen -- whose previous incarnation, Jonathan Fire*Eater, rather famously dissolved after their first (and last) album for Dreamworks, Wolf Songs for Lambs, failed to live up to the label's sales expectations -- the band's second album, Bows + Arrows (which was released by the Warner Brothers imprint Record Collection), certainly doesn't sound like your typical major-label debut. Although it's tighter and more polished than the brilliantly shambling Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone, any worries about restraints on the band's creativity are dismissed by the first eerie-yet-warm strains of its opening track, "What's in It for Me": a gentle prologue to the rest of the album, it's about as charmingly off-kilter as the band gets. Walter Martin's organs and keyboards glow like streetlights reflected on rain-slicked pavement on this song, and on Bows + Arrows' other strangely luminous interludes. While there aren't as many of those moments on this album as there were on Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone, Bows + Arrows fuses that heady atmosphere with the band's angular rock into songs that are equally noisy, dreamy, angry, and romantic. And though even their loudest songs still have a foggy distance to them, the album includes several tracks that rock much harder than anything the Walkmen have done since their Jonathan Fire*Eater and Recoys days. On "The Rat," the band sounds joyfully pissed-off, as Hamilton Leithauser screams "Can't you hear me?! I'm calling out your name/Can't you see me? I'm pounding on your door!" "Little House of Savages" and "My Old Man" both start out like the harshly chugging, post-punk influenced indie rock of the Walkmen's former acts before evolving into the bittersweetly philosophical sound that the band seems to have cornered the market on. Nowhere is there a better example of this than "The North Pole," an equally funny and sad recounting of running into an old flame around the city; Leithauser's rasp holds both self-pity and a sneer, which are mirrored by the song's alternately chiming and charging guitars. However, the Walkmen don't limit themselves to familiar emotional and musical territory; the breathtakingly lovely "Hang on Siobhahn" is a delicately drunken waltz that, with its faraway drums and tinkling pianos, finds Leithauser promising to come home soon; it could be from a tour, or a tour of duty. It's one of the best songs the Walkmen have done, and along with "138th Street," it finds the band exploring the Pogues' influence that has always lurked around the edges of their sound. "Thinking of a Dream I Had," meanwhile, splices together surf, Christmas music, and garage rock. Bows + Arrows may not be a drastic change from Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone, but their music, built on loud guitars and organs and strange reflections and remembrances, is so unique that drastic change isn't necessary, and simply having more of it around is more than enough. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
'Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone'
Release Date 3/26/2002
Tracks 13
Label Star Time
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Waves of dark, shimmering guitar riffs cascade over you as the Walkmen conjure up ghosts of the Velvet Underground on "They're Winning," the introduction to the band's debut, Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone. Made up of three survivors of the industry's one-time "future of rock & roll" band, Jonathan Fire*Eater (organist Walter Martin, guitarist Paul Maroon, and drummer Matt Barrick), along with bassist Peter Bauer and vocalist Hamilton Leithauser, the Walkmen combine the aforementioned group's skewed mod rock minus the major-label polish. Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone points at the band's roots -- New York City's late-'70s/early-'80s CBGB's scene. It is not so much that the Walkmen sound like Television or the Talking Heads or Blondie, but that they, like their NYC peers Interpol, the French Kicks, and Radio 4, evoke the gritty, urban energy so well. "Wake Up," previously released on the band's debut EP, is downright eerie as vocalist Hamilton Leithauser moans over the twisting melody. The title track is an intense spiral of space rock with spare but melodramatic string flourishes. "Revenge Wears No Wristwatch" is so stripped that it is propelled almost entirely by the drumbeat. "The Blizzard of '96," "Stop Talking," and the strangely catchy "We've Been Had" chime like a broken music box with an off-kilter, storybook glimmer. What world do these songs come from? Clearly, it is someplace magical -- a Tim Burton dream, a Wim Wenders skyline, maybe a comic book Gotham or manga artist Paul Pope's futuristic curry-scented, Tokyo-ized New York City. But, wherever it is, you'll be drawn into the parallel universe as soon as you push "play." ~ Charles Spano, All Music Guide
