Spoon
Transference
Merge
The Austin indie rock emissaries take the old, new, borrowed, and blue approach on their seventh studio album, Transference—a record that’s not as preen or polished as previous efforts, but nonetheless stays true to the band’s trademark metronomi-rock sound. Spoon’s first LP sans producer, Transference is best described as an exploded view sort of record, with the quartet’s cumulative influences, vulnerabilities, and idiosyncrasies breaking through more than ever.
Winding up with “Before Destruction,” a heady, organ-propelled chamber-pop overture riddled with shower stall vocals and acoustic-only strumming, Transference doesn’t come right out and say exactly what it is or who it’s for, but nonetheless notifies the listener that this record is about the journey—not the destination. Unfortunately, the journey is temporarily detoured via “Is Love Forever?,” with all its air gun drum sounds and Reggaeton Strokes repetitiveness—and doesn’t continue until track three, with “Mystery Zone.”
Despite its name, the delightfully baroque “Mystery Zone” occupies well-traveled Spoon-iverse territory. It possess certain archetypal characteristics—a punchy bassline, some strings here and there, and straight-laced percussion—that have defined the band’s sound since Gimme Fiction, and like Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga’s “The Underdog,” this one has Nick Lowe’s influential stink all over it. “Mystery Zone” ends abruptly, like a bad digital rip or the last track on an overloaded CD-R, yet remains Transference’s most approachable track, even if it does sound like Daniel is singing “Miss Chorizo.”
“Who Makes Your Money?” is a subdued, “Was it You?”-reminiscent groover that, over and over again, asks the titular question (not where you make said money or where you get the accompanying kicks, mind you). Watch for falling Justin Vernon-style auto-tune traces here.
Album highlight, “Written in Reverse” is a disjointed, floor-stomping barrage of bar band attitude that showcases some of the album’s bolder guitar moments and some of Britt Daniel’s most memorable lyrical mutterings (see “And it feels so good/oh but only briefly/Like high school poppers would/where you lose a bit of yourself.”) After the near-destruction of Daniel’s vocal cords and a satisfying, crash symbol-heavy jam session, “Written in Reverse” spills seamlessly into the equally remarkable, “I Saw the Light,” a bound-for-fan favoritedom bedroom rocker with “Layla”-like presence—the second half of the song is a lyricless, heavily contrasting piano coda that will have listeners double-checking their liner notes indefinitely.
The raucous and infectious “Trouble Comes Running” features various lo-fi/hi-fi switchbacks, mom’s basement percussion, and a handful of Dark-Was-The-Night-variety “well-alrights.” The track builds up a more-than-palpable ’60s Brit-pop sound that’s very reminiscent of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich’s “Hold Tight” before crashing into the no-frills piano lullaby, “Goodnight Laura,” and the equally intimate power-pop ballad with post-punk aspirations, “Out Go the Lights.”
“Got Nuffin” is a straightforward, but powerful, wall-of-sound rocker complete with piano pounding and explosive guitar duels, on which Daniel confesses, “I got nothin’ to lose but darkness and shadows.” Transference’s final, and most mechanical, track, “Nobody Gets Me but You,” features a bassline that just might remind you of a certain Italian plumber’s dungeon descent, but ultimately evolves into a krauty end-of-album jam laced with digitally reversed piano rolls, seemingly random audience sound bytes, and mild reprises of some of Gimme Fiction’s poppier moments.
Transference ends in a carefully engineered abruption of noise that effectively makes sense of the album’s ornately fragmented mythos. Sure, it’s challenging, maybe a bit antsy or noncommittal at times, but, to paraphrase frontman Britt Daniel himself: This one is pure Spoon. For better or worse and all of it.
