The Album Leaf, A Chorus of Storytellers
[Sub Pop]
Reviewed by: Chris Polley
Once you’ve got everything you could ever want, why would you change a thing? The question’s not necessarily a rhetorical one, but it could be. In the hyper-fickle day and age of music criticism we currently live in, the more obvious answer to this query would be, emphatically: “because we want something new, dammit.” Whether it ends up being immaculate or garbage, we don’t care. As long as it’s something unheard of before today, it’s better than recycling a formula.
Conversely, if we were to if only for a second consider the desires and impulses of the musical artist (I know, I know, thinking about anyone but ourselves is hard work) and the not the music consumer, the answer might morph markedly. Imagine toiling for years toward an illusory goal of music creation, never quite getting the results you want, but album by album, slowly inching toward that moment of perfectly congealed harmony. Once the right ingredients are blended together in all the ways (instruments, players, sound engineers, etc.) that you could have ever hoped for, even though you never really mapped out the trajectory in your head, you might want to hold onto that bliss for a bit, wouldn’t you?
Now for illustrative purposes, let’s take principal singer-songwriter Jimmy LaValle of The Album Leaf as our primary example of said predicament. The man started out hopscotching from band to band in his hometown of San Diego, from noise-rockers The Locust to post-punk-enthusiasts Gogogo Airheart. Eventually he made his way to dreamy post-rockers Tristeza. As that man helped to form one of the genre’s masterpieces (2001’s Dream Signals in Full Circle) with his effervescent guitar work, he also began dabbling in the solo field with his Rhodes piano and some drum loops as The Album Leaf. Now this wasn’t so much toiling and aching for success as a primary songwriter as much as it was wandering around in surreal pastures of instrumental ambient bedroom electronica, most likely just for personal pleasure.
But then Sigur Rós happened.
Suddenly a project built around simple but catchy keyboard riffs and experimenting with friends in the studio became a full-time deal. LaValle departed Tristeza and embarked on a world tour with the Icelandic superstars at their personal request. Later they invited them to record in their studio space and a recording deal with indie rock behemoth Sub Pop fell at LaValle’s feet. It seems like at this point, the question that began this journey would come into play, yes? Well, while opportunities were certainly coming at LaValle from every direction at this point in time, it wasn’t until 2009, two brilliantly sprawling and epic albums later, that The Album Leaf became more than just a moniker for the man’s solo work.
Last year, in the studio and on stage, The Album Leaf became a full-fledged band. After spending eight years playing with numerous talented folks, from members of his former bands to members of Múm and Telefon Tel Aviv, LaValle finally solidified a base of comrades that stuck by his visions and contributed to them to transform the name into that of a fully realized collaborative effort rather than merely a man and his Rhodes, with the help of some friends sometimes.
So yes, now I believe it is finally fair to say that The Album Leaf has become what it was meant to become. The first release featuring the full band, A Chorus of Storytellers, suggests the power of plurality in its title alone, much less the astonishing weight of its musical contents. And despite this monumental quest that LaValle has stumbled through over the course of the past decade, so many critics have (while admiring the man’s capability for producing magnetic aural beauty in an attempt to land the blow softly) dismissed the record as another stagnant entry in LaValle’s discography.
In many ways this is not unfair. Instrumentals like “Within Dreams” and vocal-led numbers like “Almost There”, while succeeding at the meticulously practiced Album Leaf formula, do not pack the power that other cuts on the record do or past lead-in tracks on LaValle’s more solo-oriented efforts. On the whole, the album exudes the similar kind of mellow beach shore vibe that LaValle’s been in the process of perfecting for years, and its full-bodied realization is not necessarily immediately noticeable.
On the other hand, there are tracks here that do use the full band to a much greater effect than ever heard before on an Album Leaf release. “Until The Last” packs more of a wallop than most twenty-some-piece orchestras, and thus blows the lid off of any subtle instrumental excursion LaValle has produced on his own throughout his career. Likewise, “Falling From The Sun” takes LaValle’s voice and unlike past efforts where the vocals would act more as another layer than a leading instrument, pushes it to the forefront of an already delightfully swollen soundscape, which is a remarkable feat for both a bandleader and a band working for the first time on record behind one.
To get back to the question at hand, yes, even for die hard Album Leaf fans like myself (full disclosure a little too late I suppose), I cannot help but feel the urge for a new direction for LaValle and company. However, upon repeat listens to soak in the rich elements of different musicians working together and a reminder as to how the man got to the place he did, I am more than willing to accept this milestone as a necessary transition piece to a greater exploration of LaValle’s sensibilities and mastery of lushly orchestrated sadsack pop music. He’s gotten this far and still kept me drooling for more, so now I believe the next album will be the real test.
Rating: 89%
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OMD: 88% (↓ 1%)
Still very much a record that sounds beautiful and is expertly crafted, but my dedication to the Album Leaf name has diminished slightly in the past month, making me anxious to hear them try something different. A couple tracks (“Falling From the Sun”, “Until the Last”) are still immediately powerful, but overall, it’s just an excellent background album. Which is perfectly acceptable according to Brian Eno.
