Review Summary: Watching people move, they appear to groove with the invisible.
The Servant's second EP,
With the Invisible, was written and recorded shortly after their debut
Mathematics in mid 2000. Riding on their minor success and critical praise, the band took to producing more of the same high-quality content for this album and succeeded in releasing a
de facto Part Deux to their debut. Indeed, their French label release even goes so far as to package the two discs as a double-EP, with "CD NO: 001" being a reissue of
Mathematics and "CD NO: 002" being this one. This works because the album itself works just as well as its predecessor, conveys just as much emotion, contains just as much artistic craftsmanship, and is just as enjoyable to listen to.
Employing the same image of chewing a pen from their debut, Dan Black paints the same picture of a discontent office worker, only this time he's well aware of his growing contempt and contemplates killing all his co-workers. "Biro" thus follows as a sequel to "Dripping on Your Maths", more self-aware and self-loathing than its predecessor. The band then juxtaposes this with "Milk Chocolate", the most upbeat and sugary-sweet tune they've ever crafted; it's happy and silly and fun, and beneath it all lie weird lines that accentuate the sugar high.
What follows are four tracks about enduring social anxiety ("In a Public Place"), overcoming existential angst ("The Entire Universe"), dissatisfaction with self-presenting as something you're not ("Driving at Night"), and the restless curse of idealism in the face of complacency ("She Cursed Me"). None of these are run-of-the-mill subjects, and none of them are treated as such; in spite of the constant negativity in subject matter and lyrical content, songwriter Dan Black presents each song with an upbeat, enjoyable arrangement in his own unique style. "In a Public Place", for instance, features a funky bass, flanged guitar, and simple drum beat that come off as warmly dream-like. "The Entire Universe" utilizes lightly overdriven guitar and sharp vocals, deliberate bassline and plodding beat, and occasional sonic flourish to embellish the harshness of each line of the verse(s), then shifts to a smoother melody and bass-heavy chorus speculating about the secrets of the universe being concealed by a girl to whom the narrator is smitten; it's all reminiscent of the band's previous "Tangled Up in Headphone Lead", and it all makes for an enjoyable listen.
It's a strange quirk of fate that this album should fall out of print and become such a rarity (my own copy I had to track down for months, import from France, and blot dry after it arrived drenched with seawater). With its choice and treatment of subject matter,
With the Invisible should appeal to anyone who enjoys alternative and/or indie music. With its hooks and melodies it should appeal to anyone who likes music, period.
