Derrick Rossignol
Editor in Chief
In the days when music is hyper-produced and the loudness war rages on, a record mastered to preserve a wide dynamic range is a breath of fresh air.
Thankfully, there is still a market for bands who record in their garages or produce their own music, although their job may be imperfect. The material rarely suffers with a slightly-below par production job. In fact, it almost helps: With a pair of high quality headphones, hearing mixing and mastering imperfections can make material infinitely more interesting. It takes you out of the lull that having everything fall exactly in place can put you into. It adds an element of surprise: if you know exactly where a song is going, what’s the point?
In the first track of “Warpaint,” the titular group’s sophomore album, they begin with a warbling, buzzing guitar and a punchy drum beat before the beat stops and one of the band members is heard saying, “Ah, sorry! I’m gonna stand up.” Then they just soldier on and keep it going, like this take was recorded at a rehearsal.
What Warpaint plays could be considered dream pop to a degree, which is a strange juxtaposition of a genre: although the sound is ethereal, reverb-drenched and atmospheric, that vibe is often achieved through lo-fi means. A lot of dream pop is made by aspiring musicians in their bedrooms with equipment a grade or two above the built-in microphone on their laptops. Dream pop is not about what you have: it’s how you use it.
The other major element of their style, post-punk, shares a similar philosophy. In its early days, post-punk was often performed by unskilled musicians who knew a bit about chords and a lot about what they wanted to say and what sound they wanted to make. That’s not at all to say that Warpaint fits into that demographic, but their dark, dense sound makes sense based on its stylistic origins.
The problem with post-punk dream pop is that there is a bit of a contradiction there: dream pop is ambient and airy while post-punk is fast and energetic. When you combine the two, you run the risk of combining the lower BPM’s of dream pop with the more basic instrumentation of post-punk. That can work for a few songs, but unless it’s done well, things can start to drag quickly.
Unfortunately, it seems that Warpaint may have fallen into that trap.
It would have been a service to cut a few songs from this album: in its current state, 51 minutes is too long to hold attention. There are many great moments where the group’s creativity shines through, but they’re spread just a little too far apart. Had this been a 30-40 minute record instead, the downtime between these moments would have been less of a sedative and more of a segue.
And that’s a real shame, because the highlights are beyond worthwhile: “Feeling Right” is like Beach House’s grimier little sister while the synth in “Biggy” is Nine Inch Nails redux. It’s moments like these, and there are more than a few, that help the album stick around, prompting repeat listens in hopes that the extended vanilla sections begin to seem less like valleys and more like cracks in the pavement, or that their self-contained value becomes more evident. If any album has the potential to be a grower, this is it.
Grade: B-