Making the Personal Universal
There are plenty of acts out there that have made gentle, wearing-their-hearts-on-their-sleeves-with-wide-eyed-innocence part of their aesthetic. Sometimes it comes off as merely a twee affectation. Others, it reads as a calculated way for skeezy misogynists to scam girls. But then there are those rare times when that innocence (whether innate, intentional, or otherwise), shines through and feels genuine. Encyclopedia, the latest album from The Drums, is one of those rare times.
The Drums manage to walk that delicate line lyrically between autobiographical and universal. There are enough description and crystallized moments related through an economy of words to make it feel like they’re grounded in the writer’s personal experience. At the same time, the lyrics are oblique enough to give the listener room to relate the song to their own personal story.
One of this album’s greatest strengths is its underlying structure and the amount of musical territory it explores. The tracks are arranged like one might plan out a live set, transitioning between different energy levels, shifting between torchy ballads and scream-along-at-the-top-of-your-lungs rock club anthems.
The lead track, “Magic Mountain,” starts with a brief whisper before hitting you with a bang. Layers of overdriven guitars (stylistically half way between early B-52s and the Pixies), synths and drums begin pulsating and undulating, while Jonny Pierce channels the cutting (if slightly atonal) vocals stylings of Perry Farrell to great effect. The frantic underlying energy is palpable and inescapable. You will find yourself barely able to contain the urge to thrash dance along.
Contrast this to “I Hope Time Doesn’t Change Him,” an earnest, straightforward ballad that is told from the point of view of someone at the end of the honeymoon period of a new relationship who is feeling insecure about himself and the future. A lazy, slightly sloppy guitar weaves throughout the track, with enough imperfections to make it feel organically and ProTools-free, grounded by understated bass work and crowned with twinkling synth accents.
This is a beautifully crafted pop record that is more the template for a live show than a simple collection of songs. While there are wonderful standout tracks (“I Can’t Pretend,” “Let Me,” “Face of God” and “Wild Geese”) and a couple soft spots (“U.S. National Park” and “There Is Nothing Left”), make the time to sit down and listen to the album entirely your first time through.
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