The Antlers, Burst Apart
Reviewed by: Chris Bosman
Back in 2009, Peter Silbermann was holed up in his apartment, dealing with the aftermath of an emotionally abusive relationship. He dealt with those issues by recording ten emotional gut-punch pieces of music that would later become Hospice, Silbermann’s breakout album under his long-time moniker the Antlers. In interviews, Silbermann said that he recorded much of the instruments– including the individual drums from the drum kit– one at a time, due to the limited recording space available in his apartment. That meant that each musical element, from where to place each snare hit and each guitar squall, could be poured over ad infinitum until it fit into Hospice’s singular vision. A concept album that combined a man’s emotionally abusive relationship with his significant other and his emotionally abusive relationship with his terminal hospice patient, Hospice owed much of its power to that singular vision.
The recording sessions of Hospice would eventually include multi-instrumentalist Darby Cicci and percussionist Michael Lerner (as well as bassist Justin Stivers). When Hospice drew admiration and accolades from scores of critics, it would be that trio that would turn the Antlers into a touring group and quickly join Silbermann as official members. Burst Apart is the fourth album under the Antlers name, but its the first that’s not exclusively a Silbermann project, and includes Cicci and Lerner as contributing members. At its best, Burst Apart illustrates the musical chemistry these three ooze while on stage. At its worst, it sounds aimless, a direct result of a lack of that singular vision that made Hospice such an engaging listen.
Three songs, “Parentheses”, “Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out”, and “I Don’t Want Love”, proceeded Burst Apart’s release, and wisely. These three songs– along with penultimate track “Corsicana”– are far and away the best tracks on Burst Apart, and all for different reasons. “I Don’t Want Love” opens the record with plaintively strummed guitars, trading in Hospice’s grandiose drama for a smaller scope and a more personal touch, effectively communicating the downtrodden bitterness of lost love. Basically, it’s the best Death Cab For Cutie song in years. “You want to climb up the stairs/ I want to push you back down” is the kind of outwardly vicious line that Silbermann excels at delivering in a manner that is not only understandable, but relateable. “Teeth” starts out quietly, but just like on Hospice, when Silbermann kicks his voice into the upper registers, it’s a full force punch to the heart. Every time Silbermann sings the songs titular line, the track ratchets up the tension another notch. By the end, multi-tracked Silbermann’s are tripping over each other, screeches of electronic noise are crossing channels, and it actually seems as if the band may live up to the album’s title. “Corsicana” is the kind of ballad that Hospice would have subverted, but the band plays it straight here, doubling its emotional intensity by going against type. And “Parentheses” is as vibrant and violent a song as the band has ever recorded; when the distorted guitar comes in, each teeth-gnashing strum is followed by a bottomed-out low E, mimicking those arguments where even at your angriest, the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach remains.
If every song on Burst Apart was as powerful as that quartet, it’d be a frontrunner for album of the year. Unfortunately, though, the rest of the record passes by quietly and almost without notice. “French Exit” is the second song on the album, and it opens with an out-of-left-field balaeric sounding guitar-and-keyboard riff, but those interesting elements are quickly swallowed up by atmospherics and a surprisingly restrained vocal from Silbermann, a singer who is at his best letting go rather than keeping it together. “Hounds” and “No Widows” are each over five minutes long and go exactly nowhere. The instrumental “Tiptoe” actually steals the melodic progression of Muse’s “Knights of Cydonia”, attempting to hide it behind steel drums, and a muted trumpet. There are times on Burst Apart when it feels like the Antlers are trying too hard to sound sad. A band this adept at tapping into the well of human emotions should not have that problem.
On Burst Apart, the Antlers certainly sound less like a bedroom project and more like a band. Adequate space is given to all of the instruments, and the mixing and mastering has been knocked up about three levels even from Frenchkiss’ re-release of Hospice. But the professionalism– touring, band members, studio-quality recoridng– seem to have drained some of the personality this band thrived on. Silbermann’s too good of a songwriter to let it sink Burst Apart, and the four songs on this album stand toe-to-toe with any on Hospice. But there’s little to no room on this new album for the kind of brutal emotional attachment diehard fans had for the Antlers’ last. By getting out of the bedroom, the Antlers seem to have lost the unified vision that made its bedroom records so great.