It’s hard to believe that Swan Lake isn’t putting out the best albums of the decade. The three-headed monster that is Dan Bejar (New Pornographers, Destroyer), Spencer Krug (Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown) and Carey Mercer (Frog Eyes, Blackout Beach) have now put out two records (2006’s Beast Moans before this album), none of which seems to live up to the gems that each puts out on their own. The result doesn’t seem to be greater than the sum of the parts, but considering the parts, it would be nearly impossible.
Bejar, Krug and Mercer are three of the sharpest song-writers of the era. As Destroyer, 2004’s Your Blues cemented Bejar’s genius, his far-flung, wandering lyrics hovering over synthy horns and acoustic guitar. His skewed pop sensibilities were on display on 2005’s Notorious Lightning & Other Works as well, this time backed by Frog Eyes, who at that time not only included Mercer, but Krug on keyboards as well.
Krug is probably best known as the weirder of the two vocalists for Wolf Parade, but his side project Sunset Rubdown is far and away the more noteworthy. 2007’s Random Spirit Lover was a masterpiece, sounding like a cobwebbed, cluttered attic, full of interconnected themes and lyrics. But, he’s largely indebted to Mercer, as Krug first worked as keyboardist for Frog Eyes before hitting it big.
Mercer’s most recent Frog Eyes release, Tears of the Valedictorian was sublime, Mercer’s chaotic, rampaging vocals only matched by his epic, frantic lyrics. Whether with a full band or in his solo efforts (as Blackout Beach), Mercer is a lyrical genius, full of passion, intelligence and intensity (for proof, see his notes on recording Enemy Mine at http://cloudofevil.blogspot.com/).
Yet, Enemy Mine never hits the stride that Tears, Your Blues or Random Spirit Lover each hit so successfully. Much like Beast Moans, this release has its standout moments, but too often feels stuck between too many ideas. The thread that wove throughout those three albums that made them so great was the fact that there was in fact a thread that wove through them. The songs all had themes and sounds that interwove from track to track, reinforcing the spiderweb structures of story, instrumentation and power.
Though I am admittedly a full-fledged Mercer fanatic, I would argue that the Mercer-penned tunes on the records are the standouts. “Spanish Gold, 2044” opens with stuttered electric guitar before falling into a very Frog Eyes groove, Mercer howling about incantations with Krug wailing in the background. If there’s one unabashed positive about Swan Lake, its that all of the singer-songwriters are excellent backing vocalists, each adding the perfect layer of haunting chill that the song needs.
“Paper Lace”, which Krug had played live with Sunset Rubdown before the album released, is full of all of the Krug earmarks: characters (this time Jackie, running away with the narrator), talk of “burning and fading,” sharp, syncopated guitar, stuttered vocals and heavy synth.
The opening track is Mercer, the second is Krug, so Bejar comes next. Rather than structuring the album thematically, it seems that they wanted to merely balance the role of captain. Bejar’s lyrics, instead of strange magic (like Mercer) or stark narration (like Krug), rely on personal emotion. “I was sick of the rodeo, I was sick of the farm” he intones in the slick, gnomey way that only Bejar can.
The album isn’t bad, by any stretch of the imagination. But considering the three songwriters, you have to expect something spectacular, which is a tough position to put these three in. Without the unified, closely knit nature of their albums on their own, its hard to say that Enemy Mine is close to the same league as any Frog Eyes, Sunset Rubdown or Destroyer album.
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