Modest Mouse’s Strangers to Ourselves, their sixth studio album and their first since 2007’s We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, is certainly an album many music fans across genres have been anticipating with hopeful skepticism. The current band lineup is noticeably different from the original group, with the two only real constants being singer-guitarist Isaac Brock and drummer Jeremiah Green. Some people were also disappointed with Johnny Marr’s departure from the band a few years ago, though that news did not come as much of a surprise at the time. The band also recently announced that they plan to put out another album very soon, and have already started working on it. This news, put together with the somewhat fresh group of backing musicians, has created some worries that new music from Modest Mouse might not come close to living up to their past accomplishments. In short, there are fears that they have turned into a new band, and are rushing to churn out music.
After listening through Strangers To Ourselves, I firmly believe that these fears are unnecessary. The album generally lacks the mellow slowburners associated with their earliest albums, but the band’s distinct sound shines through the entire work.
The album starts on a calm note with the title track, but moves into punchy vocal aggression and rhythmic force right after, in “Lampshades On Fire.” The song offers a rhetorical question that seems reminiscent of past releases, as Brock sings “This one’s gone so where to now?” The song, like several others on the album, employs Brock’s signature lyric-writing technique, as he throws a bunch of semi-philosophical, weirdly specific, surrealistic observations in quick succession, with such confidence that even the most nonsensical lines make perfect sense in the moment.
The band never shows fear of confrontation, as is clear in the next song, “Shit In Your Cut,” and later in “God Is An Indian And You’re An Asshole.” The song titles alone suggest an attitude of not giving a shit, or punkish abandon, but the musicality of each song gives merit to the blunt titles and lyrics. In other words, the album succeeds in the same way as songs like “Satin in a Coffin,” “Black Cadillacs,” or even “Spitting Venom,” where the lyrics can be interpreted as spew from an asshole, but they are so cleverly delivered, and so appropriate for the tone of the music, that at the very least they are coming from a brilliant asshole.
The weirdest moment of the album occurs, without a doubt, at the beginning of “Pistol.” The song tells a story that seems like a cross between No Country For Old Men and Boogie Nights. Once the beat comes in, though, the song becomes more catchy than weird, and starts to feel like something that may be uncomfortable and out of place, but you can still nod along to it.
While most of the album is clearly recognizable as the product of Modest Mouse, the song that seems most musically related to their more popular older songs is “The Ground Walks, With Time In A Box.” Between guitar twangs, frenetic and bouncy percussion, and vocals that wisp in and out, the track carries a high speed summer barbeque vibe, and seems like exactly the kind of song that would get people moving at a concert.
They follow that outburst with the album’s most gentle, most charming slow song “Coyote.” For those who have yet to see the video for the song, I recommend looking it up and enjoying the half cute, half heartbreaking shots of a coyote on the subway. It’s kind of a Yeats-y visual for twenty-first century life, where industry has to reconcile with nature, but hey let’s distract ourselves by gawking at a cute animal.
“Sugar Boats,” is the next song of note. While the lyrics aren’t terribly original, the song feels fresh in the album as it incorporates Bourbon Street-like piano jangling and brass mixed with more typical rock instrumentation. “Wicked Campaign” carries less energy, but does not ruin the momentum of the album. It also offers more introspection, but in a guarded way, as Brock sings, “Well you know I’m a bastard and we only just met/I guess I probably shouldn’t wear this big old sign around my neck,” and, “I should probably just exit the same way I came in.” The song presents a certain insecurity, possibly inspired by the anxieties around reentering a competitive music scene after time away, having so many expectations to meet. Or maybe it’s about divorce or weight loss or eating apples—who knows? Either way, “Wicked Campaign” provides a nice, thoughtful balance to the album, about two thirds of the way through.
“The Best Room” is the last forceful song before the soft exit in “Of Course We Know,” and it mostly continues in the same vein as the other hard-hitting songs that precede it. I think it’s a testament to the band that, even though the song does not seem like it’s doing anything new that late in the album, it still does not feel like they are beating a dead horse. Where so often bands pack the first half of their albums with the good stuff, and then taper off with a half hour of filler music, Modest Mouse maintains their singular sound to the end, but without exhausting the listener. Everything seems fresh but familiar, unpredictable but structured, like a good kind of déjà vu.
Rating: W-P-G
RIYL: Spoon, Deer Tick, Band Of Horses
Key Tracks: “Lampshades On Fire,” “The Ground Walks, With Time In A Box,” “Wicked Campaign”
