Review: Parts & Labor - Constant Future

Constant Future is an apt name for the fifth LP from Brooklyn-based trio Parts & Labor; whilst sonically it's no great shift forward from their previous albums, it's a confident piece of work, consolidating a niche sound which they should comfortably able to push through a few more albums to come. Behind the scenes of course, little about Parts & Labor has been constant - drummers have come and gone, and guitarist and fourth member Sarah Lipstaite lasted just a year - but to the credit of core members Dan Friel and B.J. Warshaw, none of that has ever been evident from the band's music.

The main difference between Constant Future and 2008's Receivers is the relative brevity of the songs; whilst a number of tracks on Receivers unwound steadily over 7 minutes, the songs on Constant Future tend to hit the ground running. Consequently the 12 songs here are rattled through faster than the 8 songs on Receivers. Whilst none of the songs on Constant Future could be accused of twiddling their thumbs, on occasion the conciseness can feel a little forced, as though the rug is swept from under your feet just as the song is about to hit paydirt; the lyric "nothing grows without a seed" on Without A Seed feels painfully ironic when the song fails to fully blossom after a highly promising opening.

For the most part, however, the abbreviated run-times prove to be Constant Future's greatest asset, accentuating the punchiness of the band's songwriting. The key elements of Parts & Labor's sound - the stellar guitars, complex drum patterns and electronic wig-outs - are present and correct on every song here, but the real joy of listening to Parts & Labor is the way they apply these unorthodox building blocks to big, meaty hooks and choruses, and Constant Future is rife with them. As with similarly-minded brits The Big Pink, Parts & Labor come across much more experimental on paper than they do in practise, and that suits them just fine; in Skin And Bones they even have a stomping anthem of Dominoes proportions. Nobody could claim either Friel or Warshaw to be the most expressive of vocalists, but the authorotive tones of Friel  in particular are sufficiently muscular to carry the songs to their chest-pounding choruses.

Whilst little has changed on the surface, Constant Future is a tangible improvement on Receivers. It's a thoroughly satisfying and hugely enjoyable set of songs; art-rock done on an arena scale.

79/100

Forthcoming Releases - March 2011

An interesting mix of releases this month. R.E.M look to pull themselves out of their post-Automatic For The People slump by continuing on from the good work of 2008's Accelerate. Another band with a lot to prove is The Strokes; album #4 is called Angles and is out on the 21st. Let's just hope it's as spiky as its title suggests, and doesn't fall flat like their last record. Elbow follow up on their Mercury Prize-winning The Seldom Seen Kid; first single Neat Little Rows reassuringly suggests that it's business as usual for the Mancunians. And whilst it's already out there for those who want it, Radiohead's The King Of Limbs gets an official physical release on the 28th. But who knows; by then we might be listening to a whole new set of Radiohead songs released out of the blue.

7/02
Elbow: Build A Rocket Boys! (Fiction)
R.E.M.: Collapse Into Now (Warner Bros)
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring For My Halo (Matador)
Parts & Labor: Constant Future (Jagjaguwar)
Rainbow Arabia: Boys & Diamonds (Kompakt)
Those Dancing Days: Daydreams & Nightmares (Wichita)

14/02
Dodos: No Color (French Kiss)
J Mascis: Several Shades Of Why (Sub Pop)

21/02
The Strokes: Angles (RCA)

28/02
Broken Bells: Meyrin Fields EP (Columbia)
Dirty Beaches: Badlands (Zoo)
Micachu & The Shapes and the London Sinfonietta : Chopped And Screwed (Rough Trade)
The Mountain Goats: All Eternals Deck (Merge)
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart: Belong (Slumberland)
Radiohead: The King Of Limbs (XL)
Secret Cities: Strange Hearts (Western Vinyl)

Do You Remember The First Time? #3 Grizzly Bear - On A Neck, On A Spit

Most music critics and their dogs will have you believe that 2009's Veckatimest was Grizzly Bear's masterpiece-to-date, the album we'd been waiting for them to deliver. They're wrong. Whilst there's plenty to admire about the meticulously arranged avante-pop of Veckatimest, it was distinctly lacking in the atmosphere that was dripping from their preceding album, Yellow House. Possibly my favourite album of 2006, Yellow House was a haunting set of songs; enticing you in with the wispy flutes of Easier, the album guided you by the hand through what felt like a rich undergrowth; songs like Little Brother chitter with wildlife. But that warm welcome is quickly withdrawn and a feeling of unease sets in, as supicious voices whisper incoherently around you. Guitars creak and roar into life like tree branches moving in the wind. Ghostly ballads like Plans and Marla give a genuine sense of the creeps. By the time the album's brooding closer Colorado comes to an end you feel like you've come through an ordeal, and yet as you look back and see the sun peeking through the foliage, you can't help but want to wander in again.

I was introduced to Grizzly Bear via its centrepiece On A Neck, On A Spit, and it remains my favourite song of theirs. In many ways, it encapsulates everything that is so great about Grizzly Bear, both then and now. The song's first half is hushed and rustic, threatening to burst into life with thick stabs of acoustic guitar  and rumbling guitars before withdrawing once more. Then a rich, nimble acoustic guitar line threads its way in and the song steadily picks up momentum, leading to the kind of barnstorming climax that the band have perhaps become just a little too over-reliant on ever since. But here it feels like rich reward for riding with the song's highs and lows.

In recent performances, the band have done away with the song's first half and cut straight to the chase, which says a lot about the band's subsequent musical trajectory. Here it is in full, as it should be heard: