(First, a little pre-history.)
Enter Braid—one of (literally) hundreds of bands to bear the almost-burden moniker of emo in the ‘90s.
Back then (you know, when bearing that tag actually meant more about music and actual talent than it does today), it’s unsurprising that after a while bands would start to sound alike. People were copying whatever sounded cool at the time and tried to add their own little change to it. Evolution right? Nothing new. Well, somehow, in the midst of all these clones and conformers (and I try to use that term lightly) appears Braid from Urbana, Illinois.
Braid, not unlike the pattern set before them, was a band that changed slowly over time, but still maintained an over-arching theme of you guessed it: evolution.
In The Age of Octeen, Braid displays an immediate change in tempo from their album prior, Frankie Welfare Boy Age 5 (1995, Divot), and departures into new, slower territory.
(Now for the actual review.)
The Age of Octeen sets up with the dramatic introduction piece My Baby Smokes, that offers foreshadowing into the rest of the album: personal lyrics mixed with staccato-drumming and complex dual-guitars.
Nothing new, right?
Well not long after, the song Divers* hits and sends those variables into the extreme—as well as the listener. This could very well be Braid at their most enigmatic and enchanting; with lyrics like “. . . the car lights are on / the red lights are visible / in the shadow of the door / and again on the floor / sixteen seconds / maybe more . . .”, they offer insight on what appears to be a struggle between father and son—however subtle.
So what does all of this mean exactly?
Like the title suggests, it’s exactly what it says it is: an expression on being an older teenager (18, 19 years old), encompassing not only the external struggles/joys, but—perhaps a great deal more on—the internal struggle(s) as well (such as nostalgia).
This is an excellent release that showcases Braid at there near-peak as far as creative energy is concerned, only to be over-shadowed by their later, acclaimed release, Frame & Canvas.
Enter Braid—one of (literally) hundreds of bands to bear the almost-burden moniker of emo in the ‘90s.
Back then (you know, when bearing that tag actually meant more about music and actual talent than it does today), it’s unsurprising that after a while bands would start to sound alike. People were copying whatever sounded cool at the time and tried to add their own little change to it. Evolution right? Nothing new. Well, somehow, in the midst of all these clones and conformers (and I try to use that term lightly) appears Braid from Urbana, Illinois.
Braid, not unlike the pattern set before them, was a band that changed slowly over time, but still maintained an over-arching theme of you guessed it: evolution.
In The Age of Octeen, Braid displays an immediate change in tempo from their album prior, Frankie Welfare Boy Age 5 (1995, Divot), and departures into new, slower territory.
(Now for the actual review.)
The Age of Octeen sets up with the dramatic introduction piece My Baby Smokes, that offers foreshadowing into the rest of the album: personal lyrics mixed with staccato-drumming and complex dual-guitars.
Nothing new, right?
Well not long after, the song Divers* hits and sends those variables into the extreme—as well as the listener. This could very well be Braid at their most enigmatic and enchanting; with lyrics like “. . . the car lights are on / the red lights are visible / in the shadow of the door / and again on the floor / sixteen seconds / maybe more . . .”, they offer insight on what appears to be a struggle between father and son—however subtle.
So what does all of this mean exactly?
Like the title suggests, it’s exactly what it says it is: an expression on being an older teenager (18, 19 years old), encompassing not only the external struggles/joys, but—perhaps a great deal more on—the internal struggle(s) as well (such as nostalgia).
This is an excellent release that showcases Braid at there near-peak as far as creative energy is concerned, only to be over-shadowed by their later, acclaimed release, Frame & Canvas.
8/10
(Album artwork from here.)
* Sorry for the bad sound quality here, there weren't any other videos.
You've done it again--introduced me to wonderful music at exactly the right time. I'm listening to "My Baby Smokes" and I love it already. Exactly what I've been looking for recently.
ReplyDeleteKeep up the awesome!
Good to see you're getting into it!
ReplyDelete