DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL - DUSK AND SUMMER
Four years ago, I would've hated Dashboard Confessional. In fact, I did hate Dashboard Confessional. The acoustic whining-bitch feeling that came across most of emo (except for long-time stalwarts The Ataris, who early LPs located the sick and twisted humor located within high school heartbreak and torment) was more than enough to make me gasp for the air of a "real" band, one that wasn't dead-set on making teen girls swoon through their sensitivity. I thought that Chris Carraba was the core of all that was wrong with music -- his tattoos and his music clashed together like some fourth-grade coloring book with a nudie pic inside. This was not a guy who would get ink. Not someone who would see strands of hair and decide that they were "Screaming Infidelities".
No, he couldn't be great. There was no possible way. He disgusted me, especially as I watched my classmates at my alma mater change from well-adjusted, if under and over medicated, to burnout wrist-slashers. I assumed that he, as the poster boy for emo, was the source of this sudden plague set upon the under 18 populace.
And then a funny thing happened: 2003. And with it, A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar. And it threw me for a loop. Here was some of the best pop sensibilities I heard put to record in that year. His lyrics seemed no longer the mewlings of some summer camp kid who got left back at the makeout tree. He had instantly grown up, turned on an amplifier, and formed a band. And indeed, they were anthemic. Strongly so. "Hands Down" was the best track I heard all year. Filled with more hooks than a never-caught rainbow trout. Within an album, Chris Carraba had convinced me that he was tough enough to be a tattooed rock star.
So now, it's been about three years. Between then, he kicked out the best song associated with a comic book movie yet ("Vindicated" captures the swagger and sensitivity of Sam Raimi's Spider-Man movies within three minutes, and was probably recorded for $2000, which is about 1/100th the cost of Spider-Man 2, the movie it was written for), and after a break, went into the studio to follow up "A Mark..."
And so? Did he fall back, or did he jump forward? Talk about this album followed the knowledge that Daniel Lanois, who produced the best U2 albums -- The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby and All That You Can't Leave Behind (the latter two with Brian Eno), as well as Bob Dylan's comeback Time Out Of Mind -- was working with him alongside Linkin Park and "Vindicated" producer Don Gilmore. Would it be a moody, dark and atmospheric set of songs? Would it be the dance-rock hybrid of the 21st century? Would it be the savior of the genre of "emo"?
Well, it isn't. Instead, it goes for something a bit better -- it saves Dashboard Confessional from the genre. Sure, the lyrics are still about love and loss, and his straining, almost-there high notes strike in every chorus to remind you "yes, this is the emotional peak", but they don't scratch like the acoustic albums did. And, compared to the 70's soft rock influence that "A Mark..." had, Dusk And Summer has picked up the slightest bits of guitar from modern acts like Coldplay and, like Coldplay, owes a certain debt to Dave "The Edge" Evans' gift for songwriting. Nowhere does the punk that emo built a foundation from appear, and thankfully so. But the songs are all the band's own -- there's no distinct style that flourishes on top of the one that they've started to make for themselves, and their famous producer appears to have merely styled the fringes of the songs with the layered background vocals that sound like they've almost reached the end of a cave. "Don't Wait" catches you immediately, with a free-falling guitar riff and a counterpoint acoustic picking that gives you a free-floating feeling in the pit of your stomach. It's an anthem, as good as "Hands Down" and "Vindicated", throwing some surprisingly strong punches musically. Carraba is aiming for the big boys this time around, and with tracks like "Secret's In The Telling" (bouncy in a way that is completely Dashboard but avoids the emo touch) "Stolen" (slow yet sleek), the frighteningly heavy "Slow Decay", and the piano ballad that is the least offended I've been by Adam Duritz since August And Everything After, "So Long, So Long".
I really can't believe it. Two albums in a row from Dashboard Confessional that I can honestly say I enjoy, front to back. As it is, the band's still got that "acquired taste" feel about them -- a love it or hate it feel to the music that compliments the ascent they are having towards the next plateau. Whether they make it or not is up to Carraba -- but this album points them in the right direction.
*** (out of four)
Four years ago, I would've hated Dashboard Confessional. In fact, I did hate Dashboard Confessional. The acoustic whining-bitch feeling that came across most of emo (except for long-time stalwarts The Ataris, who early LPs located the sick and twisted humor located within high school heartbreak and torment) was more than enough to make me gasp for the air of a "real" band, one that wasn't dead-set on making teen girls swoon through their sensitivity. I thought that Chris Carraba was the core of all that was wrong with music -- his tattoos and his music clashed together like some fourth-grade coloring book with a nudie pic inside. This was not a guy who would get ink. Not someone who would see strands of hair and decide that they were "Screaming Infidelities".
No, he couldn't be great. There was no possible way. He disgusted me, especially as I watched my classmates at my alma mater change from well-adjusted, if under and over medicated, to burnout wrist-slashers. I assumed that he, as the poster boy for emo, was the source of this sudden plague set upon the under 18 populace.
And then a funny thing happened: 2003. And with it, A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar. And it threw me for a loop. Here was some of the best pop sensibilities I heard put to record in that year. His lyrics seemed no longer the mewlings of some summer camp kid who got left back at the makeout tree. He had instantly grown up, turned on an amplifier, and formed a band. And indeed, they were anthemic. Strongly so. "Hands Down" was the best track I heard all year. Filled with more hooks than a never-caught rainbow trout. Within an album, Chris Carraba had convinced me that he was tough enough to be a tattooed rock star.
So now, it's been about three years. Between then, he kicked out the best song associated with a comic book movie yet ("Vindicated" captures the swagger and sensitivity of Sam Raimi's Spider-Man movies within three minutes, and was probably recorded for $2000, which is about 1/100th the cost of Spider-Man 2, the movie it was written for), and after a break, went into the studio to follow up "A Mark..."
And so? Did he fall back, or did he jump forward? Talk about this album followed the knowledge that Daniel Lanois, who produced the best U2 albums -- The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby and All That You Can't Leave Behind (the latter two with Brian Eno), as well as Bob Dylan's comeback Time Out Of Mind -- was working with him alongside Linkin Park and "Vindicated" producer Don Gilmore. Would it be a moody, dark and atmospheric set of songs? Would it be the dance-rock hybrid of the 21st century? Would it be the savior of the genre of "emo"?
Well, it isn't. Instead, it goes for something a bit better -- it saves Dashboard Confessional from the genre. Sure, the lyrics are still about love and loss, and his straining, almost-there high notes strike in every chorus to remind you "yes, this is the emotional peak", but they don't scratch like the acoustic albums did. And, compared to the 70's soft rock influence that "A Mark..." had, Dusk And Summer has picked up the slightest bits of guitar from modern acts like Coldplay and, like Coldplay, owes a certain debt to Dave "The Edge" Evans' gift for songwriting. Nowhere does the punk that emo built a foundation from appear, and thankfully so. But the songs are all the band's own -- there's no distinct style that flourishes on top of the one that they've started to make for themselves, and their famous producer appears to have merely styled the fringes of the songs with the layered background vocals that sound like they've almost reached the end of a cave. "Don't Wait" catches you immediately, with a free-falling guitar riff and a counterpoint acoustic picking that gives you a free-floating feeling in the pit of your stomach. It's an anthem, as good as "Hands Down" and "Vindicated", throwing some surprisingly strong punches musically. Carraba is aiming for the big boys this time around, and with tracks like "Secret's In The Telling" (bouncy in a way that is completely Dashboard but avoids the emo touch) "Stolen" (slow yet sleek), the frighteningly heavy "Slow Decay", and the piano ballad that is the least offended I've been by Adam Duritz since August And Everything After, "So Long, So Long".
I really can't believe it. Two albums in a row from Dashboard Confessional that I can honestly say I enjoy, front to back. As it is, the band's still got that "acquired taste" feel about them -- a love it or hate it feel to the music that compliments the ascent they are having towards the next plateau. Whether they make it or not is up to Carraba -- but this album points them in the right direction.
*** (out of four)