Explosions in the Sky, Take Care, Take Care, Take Care

Explosions in the Sky, Take Care, Take Care, Take Care

Reviewed by: Chris Polley

If you haven’t noticed yet, our editor-in-chief here at AudioSuede has been changing the banner (look up top!) daily this week, first with a Tyler, the Creator head hanging out with our logo all creepy-like for a review of his breakthrough record, then with the hilariously clad Lonely Island dudes for their sophomore release Turtleneck and Chain, and now today for a review of the latest from a quartet of silent guys with guitars from Texas. Now there doesn’t seem to be an inherent theme in this “banner week” trend, but it certainly seems like part of the fun of it lies in the fact that we’re particularly excited about the records we’re reviewing this week, arguably more so than any single week of AudioSuede review posts in a long while.

But why is this? Honestly, to this reviewer, it feels kind of random. Three of my fellow ‘Sueders (Chris, Christian, and Sam) have all been curiously enamored in some respect with the Odd Future collective that Tyler, the Creator is a part of, so that makes sense. The Lonely Island is a one-of-a-kind group that most 20-somethings with an absurdist sense of humor (and at least some residual fondness leftover from Weird Al and Adam Sandler records of their youth) can agree on, so even though it’s a stretch, I can see that as something that’d make sense to highlight. Explosions in the Sky, though? This seems like a band that’s completely personal and intimate to me, not something to blow up and get all banner-happy about. This is a band that while hugely popular compared to other artists of their ilk, still lie somewhere beneath the rabid hypester fandom of Odd Future and the populist NBC-affiliated appeal of Andy Samberg and co.

“Trembling Hands”

However, before I analyze a bit too much into our wonderful editor-in-chief’s dedicated temporary site makeover, I must say that something about it makes perfect sense, and despite my reservations, I am 100% on board with it. Simply put, if internet word-of-mouth in a short spurt of time and nostalgia combined with built-up TV fan cred can inspire mega amounts of pants-dropping anticipation for a record, then quietly heroic post-rock that simmers and, err, explodes, can too, dammit. Why? Because while this is one of those bands that will always get good-but-not-great reviews, and while they’re not going to smack you over the head with their kooky style or flamboyantly controversial behavior, their slow burn to the top of their genre deserves just as much accolades as their more eye-popping brethren.

Take Care, Take Care, Take Care is named as redundantly as it is not because they’re trying to be boring and/or innocuous (honest), but rather because they are trying to be stately and plainly honest as possible. Sure, the band with sparkly guitars and ferocious drums aren’t going to sink their teeth in like they did with their 2001 breakthrough full-length, ominously titled Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Live Forever and by chance, released the week of 9/11, nor will they wildly progress or even dip their toes into more exciting or different genres than that which they’ve become comfortable with over the course of four more records, but they have amassed such a fierce following that the conventional methods of grabbing the attention of the listener are proven not to have a monopoly on the prospective fan looking for their new favorite band. EitS, as their acolytes call them, have something more important than all the flash and bang: heart, which leads to caring.

“Be Comfortable, Creature”

When they said The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place as they released their (debatably) most accomplished record to date, it sounded like they meant it within the first few breathtaking notes after ‘play’ was pressed. When they said All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone, the ambiguous melancholy drenched the first few bars of every track, even as the guitars climbed to hopeful crescendos as if to say, “at least we have loved ones to miss.” The Austin-based band does the same on their latest, which comes packaged both in cardboard-sleeve CD packaging and gatefold LP format in such a way that if the panels are unfolded and reassembled just right, you can actually turn your own copy of the record into a standing model house, with the help of the gorgeously illustrated wooden/vine-covered artwork. It’s not only echoing an oft-repeated sentiment from a friend or family member as you leave their house; it actually offers you a house to imagine you’re both entering and leaving every time you spin and then eject the disc/vinyl. It’s taking the commonly said phrase and repurposing it so it’s more akin to “aloha” than just “goodbye.”

And in classic inviting EitS fashion, every song sounds exactly like this cinematic moment when the protagonist conveys everything they feel about the object of their affection with a simple string of words – something so every day and ordinary that if is said just in a certain way, or with a certain facial expression, it communicates a million years of longing and love. Though if that’s not emo enough for you, one could also look to the songs’ titles, which are (per usual) replete with gorgeously heartbreaking bon mots that recall or conjure up various imaginary widescreen vignettes – of characters growing apart but still connecting through a brief but tangible lifeline (“Postcard from 1952”), of characters too nervous to shake hands for the first time for fear that it will lead to a romance so wild and unpredictable it may be too much for their hearts to handle (“Trembling Hands”), or of characters once lost and then rediscovering each other years later, hoping the other will still save a spot on the train or the next plane for that possibility of reconnection (“Let Me Back In”).

“Postcard from 1952″

Is it ridiculous how much I let my mind wander with such little language, with only a wafting haze of predictably composed but exquisitely executed instrumental music? Maybe. But at least it swells in me so much that my excitement for the band becomes so intense that I can’t help but compare it to the kind of euphoric laughs a comedy nerd may get from “I Just Had Sex” or the kind of wide-eyed astonishment of a hip hop enthusiast craving something lurid yet meaningful in a sea of modern day party music that the genre has devolved to in many ways. It’s just that powerful for me. And it may just be for me, or just for the fanboys that have become so emotionally tied to the EitS aesthetic that to have anything less than that in an album would be heresy.

Bottom line: the expansive soundscapes are here. The production is warmer and more calming than ever before. The songs are still dramatic, but they’re never as climactic and raw as the band was in their glory oh-my-god-have-you-heard-this-band-yet years. There are things that are new, but they are slight, including ghostly human voices popping up in the background and a greater attention to pop melody in the guitar work, but ultimately it still sounds like the band that was transformative for so many back in the early 00s, including myself. If you’ve slowly become a superfan, or if you’ve always admired them, or if you have even just respected what they have done, you should be satisfied. It may not be a smorgasbord of WTF to the brain, but not everything has to be that. This is one of those things that just give you a soft hug and remind you it’s there for those days when you need some care.