Tapes ‘n Tapes, Outside
Reviewed by: Christian Hagen
Much ado has been made about the “power of the blogosphere,” the ability of some indie kids typing reviews in their PJs to make kings and queens of average bands and then snatch their status away in a huff at their discretion. It’s always seemed to me a ridiculous idea. The diversity of opinion and taste throughout the fictional construct that is the “blogosphere” ensures that no site has absolute authority. And most of the time, when a band fails to live up to the hype and praise of the web, it’s because they made a less-than-stellar album or shrugged off the things that made them initially interesting to the writers who work for the sites with the most power and influence.
The one story that seems the most convincing, to me, of the arbitrary power of indie bloggers is the story of Tapes ‘n Tapes.
The band became moderate champions of indie rock in 2005, which is to say that Pitchfork loved their debut album The Loon, comparing them to The Pixies and all but knighting them as lords of the realm of the blog scene. But this is where their history seems to have been confused in the retelling by many critics: It seems now as if the entire critical community threw their weight behind TnT’s infectious noise, and everyone agreed that they were the saviors of rock music for the little guy. This makes the critical community’s apparent shunning of the band’s second album, Walk It Off, much more poignant, as though the group’s rise and fall directly correlated with the whims of a few people reviewing albums on a couple websites.
People act as though Tapes ‘n Tapes were victims of a tragic folly, as though they could have never lived up to the expectations foist upon them and they buckled under pressure. Well, the band is certainly the victim of something, but it isn’t their own hype: They’ve fallen victim to the short-term memory loss of a handful of internet pundits. People forget that not everyone in the world was enamored with The Loon, and that the people who had the highest expectations for the band were few but vocal. This isn’t to say that The Loon is a bad album, or that it didn’t deserve praise, but people forget that praise wasn’t universal, and never is for any art.
The same is true for Walk It Off. True, the people who loved their first album mostly were disappointed by their second. But while the pillars of blogdom were lamenting the fallen angels of Tapes ‘n Tapes, there were still some who praised the group’s second effort, myself included. In all honesty, I’ve always appreciated Walk It Off more than The Loon. It retains all the first album’s best qualities (vibrant energy, rollicking percussion, and singer Josh Grier’s killer shout) but it keeps them in a much tighter package, with higher production values, songs that say more with less meandering, and a focus on the driving elements of their rock influences. I’ve often considered it to be one of the best Minneapolis albums of the last decade.
All of this is to say that the band’s life story has seemingly been dictated for them by critics, rather than by their music, and many have already written them off as dead. It’s bizarre to consider that a band whose second album was released only a few years ago would be considered to be done, as though nothing they could do afterward would ever satisfy anyone again.
Which brings us to Outside, the group’s latest record. It’s too reductive to call the album a disappointment up top, but I will say that if there were a way to release an album that bent to the expectations of critics more, I could scarcely conceive of it. Outside has the unfortunate quality of being neither as rough and fresh as the group’s debut or as punchy and entertaining as their first follow-up. It bears the marks of several bands that have influenced the band over the years.
Every song feels trapped in between the group’s first two efforts, as though they were trying to please fans of both and couldn’t quite find solace in either. “Desert Plane” has a rocking chorus resembling “Conquest” from Walk It Off but with the slower, quieter experimental moments that dotted The Loon. “Outro” finds the steady beat and swagger returned from 2008, but finds it lost in trying to capture the essence of what the group was doing in 2005, namely bearing the weight of their indie rock elders on their shoulders without collapsing.
The only song on the album that stands up purely to this line of critical inquest is “Freak Out,” as perfect a single as the band could have hoped for. It’s firey, it’s bombastic, it’s got a great hook. On its own not thinking of band’s past, this song still stands out as a killer centerpiece.
And perhaps this is true of the whole record. What if we listened to Outside with virginal ears, with no knowledge of what’s come before from this group?
The opening “Badaboom” is a pleasantly uptempo story of love in fear of a lover’s craziness. “SWM” is jaunty and warm and builds to one of Grier’s patented cathartic shouting sessions. “One In the World” and “Nightfall” act as tonal opposites with a similarly south-of-the-border vibe. The top half of the album, through “Freak Out,” is acceptably melodic and slightly varied.
But even without comparing the album to the band’s previous work, the back half of the album is exceedingly dull. “The Saddest of All Keys” manages to bore despite throwing all the yelling and grinding guitars it can into the mix. It’s just a bunch of anger that seems misplaced, a stomping beat that doesn’t capture attention. From here, the only song that even resembles the album’s first half is the last, “Mighty Long,” which starts spritely and becomes moderately grand. Beyond this, there’s a haze of lazy melodies and half-considered instrumentation, as if they gave up halfway through recording some songs and left them hollow.
And this is almost heartbreaking. Because if there’s one thing that could have righted the band’s mistaken history, it would have been a third album of ambition, fire, and skill that would silence everyone who tried to steer their career for them. Instead, it feels as though the band only had enough energy left for one solid track, and left the rest to wallow. And so what’s been written becomes the truth: Tapes ‘n Tapes is the band made and broken by the blogosphere, vainly retreading their old material in the hopes that a spark will set the web on fire in their praise again. And until they step up to prove otherwise, that’s all they’ll ever be. Which, for this band, is the biggest disappointment of all.