Halloween, Alaska, All Night the Calls Came In

Halloween, Alaska, All Night the Calls Came In

Reviewed by: Chris Polley

What do you do with soft pop music? You can’t blast it and shout along when you’ve been dumped like something more brash and brutal, nor can you really listen to it quietly on headphones with intimate and stark care like your favorite singer-songwriter. Hell, you can’t even play it at a moderate volume and bop along carelessly to any grand choruses as you would with a straightforward pop record. It’s not quite slow enough to be sexy or depressing nor is it quite fast enough to be considered rattled or energetic. The Minnesota-based quartet Halloween, Alaska straddle themselves delicately yet confidently within the confines of the soft pop genre as if all of these caveats are more restrictive than they are liberating for everyone else out there trying desperately to create art that so easily embodies an end of the spectrum meant for supreme expression rather than, you know, writing and performing that which is, quite simply, true to oneself.

Halloween, Alaska – “Empire Waist” from Amble Down Records on Vimeo.

And perhaps this is Halloween, Alaska’s greatest asset – they care far less about riding a trendier or more attention-seeking wave (or for that matter, remaining placidly in a generic chokehold like many artists that dance that dance between indie and mainstream, between boring and unknown and boring and ubiquitous) than they do about letting unassumingly ebullient melodies, gently soothing rhythms, and evocative mood-setting lyrics spill out of them. All Night the Calls Came In is the band’s fourth record and it may also be the first time since their more electronic-leaning self-titled debut that the band has exhibited such exquisite control over their signature sound. Unlike their two less enchanting records in between (Too Tall to Hide and Champagne Downtown), the wuss-rock quotient is transmogrified back into something far more temperamental and engaging, despite vocalist James Diers’s trademark cherubic coo. Back on that debut the group became instantly known for their almost minimalist take on a sound that would soon become legendary in part by another silken manchild-voiced singer (whose name may or may not rhyme with Shmen Shmibbard), but here, though they are clearly channeling back to what so many embraced back in 2003, the “soft” part of the soft pop equation is beefed up and truly feels like a band growing while still remaining true to its roots.

“Dance by Accident”

Of course in this context “beefed up” implies something more lush and multi-layered than it does aggressive or even exciting. The whole point of Halloween, Alaska seems to be disarming the listener with its lulling charms while simultaneously sending shivers and chills up his/her spine. The nearly six-minute epic “Analogue” does the latter the most effectively and forwardly, but every track, including even the first tremolo and handclap-happy “Empire Waist” (which follows the aforementioned, in a curious and practically inspired bit of track sequencing) manages to exude a spooky little undercurrent, from the lyrics about peeling skin to the awkwardly perfect and perfectly awkward silence-inflected transitions between riffs. It’s an atmospheric trick that’s not exactly aural smoke and mirrors, but instead  a way to bridge a gap between the pop music lover looking for nothing more than pleasantries and the pop music lover looking for something with a bit of wel-blended seductive heft. Where much of the soft pop genre only offers the former, and All Night the Calls Came In certainly could be reduced to such without careful consideration, it should be noted that Halloween, Alaska aren’t your average bland band without a backbone.

“3:1”

Take, for instance, drummer Dave King, who’s likely more known as the furious backbeat behind the jazz-ish behemoths The Bad Plus, not to mention several other on-again off-again projects of like kind. Upon initial listens to breezy tracks like “Dance by Accident” there seems to be little reason to have anyone but a half-amped drum machine (either literal or figurative) driving the tempo. And I must concede that even as a fan of the band I still find myself wafting amongst certain staid verses wondering where the animated bald man with octopus arms is at in the mix, but there’s so much subtlety at play in this kind of unflashy aesthetic that one can easily forget to just take it in like it’s meant to be taken. Sometimes King’s talents are apparent and immediately appreciated amongst the gliding synths, like the flittering hi-hat flourishes in “The Jealous Ones”, but other times it’s more about the expert ebbs and flows of the kit, which makes sense considering the man’s pedigree. He can wail away on the snare and kick during the chorus of “Dead Air” without ever sounding like he’s wailing away. He can chug along with brushes on “3:1”, barely audible above the rumbling bass, but still pitter-pattering on enough off-beats that he’s adding a whole other song beneath the song while also guiding the one above it.

But what if it all still sounds so…wussy? Well, if you’re so concerned with first impressions, you’re likely not the intended audience for Halloween, Alaska. And unfortunately you’re also likely the reason that the next flashy or more immediately unique sound always dominates over more mature and quietly complex sounds. Yes, yes, all that is needed, but some of us don’t want to shout. Some of us don’t want to get too inward either. We want to float. And we want the ride to sway but not crash.