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John Vanderslice - Romanian Names
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| Pitchfork |
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John Vanderslice's music doesn't change much from album to album. Within the world of indie rock, he's carved him a niche all his own with clean but inventive production and lyrics that spend much of their time in the heads of unique characters. Vanderslice makes thoroughly modern pop, cut through with concerns about terrorism, disease, our ever-growing distance from nature, and our addiction to mass media. Even without varying his basic formula much, he manages to stay interesting from album to album. Romanian Names, his seventh solo record, is no exception, and it also happens to contain some of the best songs of his career. Though you'd never guess this was anyone but Vanderslice, and the sound is consistent with earlier records, Romanian Names has a somewhat different feel. The production (a joint venture with long-time collaborator Scott Solter) is as meticulous as ever, but there's something about these songs that feels more natural, as if they took less effort to write but still came out just as good. Perhaps it's simply timing-- Vanderslice has moved well beyond the post-9/11 dread that dominated Pixel Revolt and Emerald City, and his voice seems to appreciate the shift in tone. That's most clearly in evidence in the glowing falsetto harmonies of lead track "Tremble And Tear", the most beguiling opener of any of his albums yet. The big, descending melodic hook is joined by a Robert Fripp-ish guitar part, and Vanderslice balances the big vocal with a sparse bassline and sharp drums-- the snare is the only hard sound in an otherwise pillowy song....full text |
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| Noripcord |
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For better or worse, John Vanderslice – talented songwriter that he is – lives or dies depending on his albums’ production, and that adds a whole other level of risk to any stylistic changes. Now seven albums deep into his career and largely unknown outside of a relatively small hipster circle, Vanderslice is making major changes in his music – some good, some off-putting – and on Romanian Names he seems to grasp for a new style and perhaps a new audience. Albums like Emerald City and Pixel Revolt were full of ambitious writing on millennial anxiety. And in a display of his most badass side, Pale Horse from Cellar Door included the lines, “Let the tyrants pour around, with apocalyptic sound, on the charge of iron wheels and the crash of horses’ heels,” set to a background of instrumentation that seemed determined to rip itself apart. It was mere anarchy, to borrow a Yeatsian phrase. Fans of these albums may hear Names and naturally react with, “What the hell happened to JV’s spine?” But this disc proves that the man still has fresh ideas, even if some of them alienate his followers. Independent from the lyrics, the songs sound creepier than anyone would have predicted. Gone is the over-driven acoustic guitar that propelled tunes like White Dove. Instead, we have the ethereal synthesizers of Too Much Time – one of the album’s potential hits. His singing on this track displays his ear for the unexpected note and his Bob Pollard-like gift for melody, but unlike the vocals of an artist like – let’s say – Mirah, which seem to grow organically out of lush arrangements, JV’s voice sounds detached from the artificial-sounding orchestration, as if to convey an out-of-body experience....full text |
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| Dustedmagazine |
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It’s practically de rigueur when writing about John Vanderslice to mention what a nice guy he is – and, indeed, in the very limited contact I’ve had with the man (one phone interview, two albums ago), he seems thoughtful, self-deprecating, empathetic … all the qualities that make up “nice.” But honestly, I’ve been thinking about “nice-ness” and wondering if it isn’t a weak version of kindness, one that doesn’t require messy self-sacrifice, embarrassment or real understanding of other people. It seems like a social skill, rather than a real virtue, and in no way as demanding as integrity, honesty, courage or altruism. Nice is nice, but you shouldn’t get a medal for it. I’ve been thinking about this while listening to Romanian Names, because this is a “nice” album, not a great one. It pleases with clean, intelligent production, thoughtful arrangements, clever, elliptical words. It assuages your feelings of inadequacy with songs so accessible that they seem to meet you at the door and introduce you to all their friends. It’s like a party in a well-lighted, tasteful room, full of upscale people who read the New Yorker. It’s entertaining enough on the surface in a chattery, well-informed way, but ultimately empty and a tiny bit boring. Somebody needs to say something offensive, or fart out loud, or get drunk and start ranting about the Trilateral Commission, or we’ll all get quietly wasted and want to kill ourselves....full text |
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