Collections of Colonies of Bees, GIVING
Reviewed by: Chris Polley
Let me tell you a story about two guitarists. Both are from the Milwaukee area. Both are named Chris. One was once an awkward teenager obsessed with the other, a supremely talented but often under-recognized musician, by way of suggestion by his college-aged movie theater co-worker. Upon hearing the album Teaching the History of Teaching Geography by the other’s band Pele, the adolescent Chris quickly thought he’d uncovered the secret to playing guitar: You play it like your life depended on it, but as if you were having the most fun in the world, not as if you needed to prove yourself or had to destroy the audience and/or the world through the amp. So the gawky, bespectacled Chris suddenly found new inspiration for this six-stringed instrument that once only played Cranberries and Nirvana covers – not to learn the other Chris’s songs, but actually find voice in the thing, and ixnaying the rock god posturing (which was what largely immediately accessible, even upon entering the indie gateway), which was kind of ironic considering the idolization that the younger Chris was blind to committing at the time. I’ll give you two guesses as to which Chris is writing in the third person at this very moment.
Collections of Colonies of Bees (CoCoB) guitarist Chris Rosenau started out in the aforementioned Pele, which certainly turned more heads than just yours truly back in the day, what with their seemingly perfected straddling of the line between experimental and accessible instrumental pop/jazz/rock, but GIVING may indeed be what he’s been working toward ever since he first realized the power of the playful yet dense guitar lick. Some could also say the same for drummer Jon Mueller, who was arguably the more vivid star of Pele, and then of CoCoB (though he is reportedly done after touring for this album), and who became known for his manic yet precise pummeling of the skins and cymbals, but honestly, all the bias out there about amateur musicians reviewing records is true. I grew up futzing on the guitar, so when a plucking or strumming style stands out, I often become too excited to hear what’s going on elsewhere in the band. Certainly I can appreciate Mueller’s work if I force myself to listen closely (and in contrast, if a superb drummer finds himself in a band whose guitar work is not as immediately appealing/distracting as Roseneau’s, I’ll take note), but in my mind I have been in for the long haul with both Pele and CoCoB because of Roseneau, and thus is one of the admitted downsides of writing, much less reading music reviews.
Collections of Colonies of Bees “GIVING” by Hometapes
I say all of this as a preamble to the fact that one of my greatest moments of discouragement with regards to my decade-long infatuation with CoCoB comes from an experience seeing the band live with a few friends that, honestly, only went with me because I was in my hometown for the first time in a while, and I suckered them into going. But all of these friends had at least somewhat similar music taste to me, and even when we differed in our opinions, I respected theirs and they me. But after being totally awestruck for a good thirty minutes by the live prowess of CoCoB (it helped that it was my first time seeing Roseneau and co. in action for a couple years), I looked over to see my friends’ reactions. I wasn’t expecting they’d be as won over as me, a fanboy to the core, but I was hoping they’d at least admit they put on a damn good show. I mean, c’mon, the wall of sound was expansive and joyous, the instrumentation was immaculately controlled yet exuded a sense of effortless unity, and every member at some point smiled or laughed as if they were having the time of their lives. What else could you ask for? But, as I believe my subconscious had feared, they had been largely bored and/or left indifferent by the (what I would call) spectacle. I have to be honest and say I was mildly heartbroken.
Could it be that CoCoB either clicks with the listener or it doesn’t? Could it be true that Roseneau’s mastery of his craft was subjective, despite the musical epiphany of my youth? “Of course” was the obvious, unsurprising, and ultimately only response. After all, they do specialize in a very particular brand of maximalist minimalism that tends to contradict itself as much as it wows certain enthusiasts. (Sidebar before I get even further ahead of myself: I’m talking about this live show in context of the album in question, their latest, is in my estimation the closest approximation of this oh-so-memorable live sound and aesthetic to date.) Yes, it was a climactic wall of sound to me, but to others it may feel like a sheet of static oppressively raining down on one’s ears – a unique tickle at first that soon became a blaring interference from silence. And yes, the band clearly has developed a tight rapport as musicians over the years, perfecting a kind of circular singularity that recalls the beautiful simplicity of artists like Arvo Part or Rhys Chatham, but even I am aware that sometimes that urge to have a song you’re listening move forward from a churning rhythm, no matter how nuanced it can become over 6-9 minutes, so it’s no shock that some people have that urge a lot more often than others. And to be clear, it’s not that I envision myself as some kind of elitist that “understands” something other people don’t. I really do believe that sometimes a style either catches you, or it doesn’t. I don’t “understand” a lot of noise music, but I also don’t believe those that enjoy it think they’re better than me. They’re just a different lot.
Maybe that’s the magnificence of my relationship (along with many others, including Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, who cites CoCoB as his favorite band – I don’t want to pretend I’m some special sonofabitch that’s into a band no one else is into just because three of my friends didn’t get into them at one show) with Roseneau’s music over the years. And maybe that’s the significance of everyone having a band or musician that they identify with, whether or not they find something in their lyrics, their playing style, or just simply adore to the point of creepiness. There are always going to be people that agree with you and people that don’t. And you are always going to approve of some of your friends’ die-hard favorites, and disapprove of others. I don’t mean to get all every-snowflake-is-beautiful-and-different on you, but records like GIVING, which seem to come across only 1-3 times per year for a music lover (if you’re lucky), are something that possibly doesn’t even need dissecting. This isn’t even like the latest Explosions in the Sky record I reviewed earlier this year, because that was just another step in a long line of supporting and promoting a work by a band I respected. GIVING is a different kind of defeat. I give myself up to it because it’s given me what I’ve waited for ever since I first heard the lower-quality but equally charming and transformative power of Teaching the History of Teaching Geography. It’s Roseneau, years later, connecting with my sensibilities more than ever before. Whether it connects with you or not remains to be seen, but whether or not it does, keep listening and keep waiting. If this one doesn’t become that collection of songs that you return to over and over again for comfort and/or ecstasy, maybe the next one will.