Review Summary: A refreshing, original take on the lo-fi sound.
It’s no secret that in 2016, all lovers of music all across the Earth have an insane amount of access to it, on a level that has never been seen in modern culture before. Digital audio is easily exchanged and transported (often illegally), and due to the advent of the Internet, independent bands have the opportunity gain exposure extremely rapidly. I had never really thought of any possible drawbacks to this until recently, for the simple reason that I had just never experienced any. But there is one, and it’s an important thing to consider: it’s a lot more difficult to be surprised by music now. A few weeks ago, I experienced what every music lover dreads: the dry spell. Life is kicking your ass and all you wanna do is relax for a second, but none of the new music you’re listening to or have been told to check out is doing anything for you, and even your favorite albums don’t really have that same spark to them in that moment. So it’s refreshing when a record comes out of nowhere and adds some vibrancy to your day, which is exactly what Chive’s record “Winnie and Rue” has done for me over the past few weeks.
A band from my hometown in Chicagoland, Chive’s current following can be adequately described as “modest”, recently eclipsing the 100-like mark on their social media accounts and occasionally receiving exposure on some local college radio stations. Since this album was made available on digital marketplaces such as Apple Music and Spotify, things have begun to pick up for them rather quickly, so obviously I had to check it out. Thankfully, it did not disappoint. In fact, it did a lot more.
What I love about “Winnie and Rue” first and foremost is how it is an incredibly cohesive record built on contradiction, something that is not easy to pull off. Dynamically the record experiences an intense push and pull, somehow managing to string a haunting ambient ballad (“We Need You Too”), a disorienting combination of lo-fi indie and disco (“People And Poles”), and a blues shuffle (“Frame On The Wall”) all in a row and sound perfectly natural and smooth the whole way through. The lo-fi production is grainy and obscure yet polished with just enough clarity that none of the sound is oppressive or inscrutable. The album’s attitude is somehow dismissive, hopeful, deprecating and humanistic all at the same time. Of course, we could talk about production value, album flow and image forever, but what really matters when the sun sets on another day is the MUSIC, man. Thankfully, none of that disappointed either.
Musically, “Winnie and Rue” is incredibly intriguing and has something new to offer on every single cut. The band shows ample skill in creating ambient atmospheres, particularly notably in the intro and the oceanic “Not Too Good”. The band blends musical voices and styles skillfully through an expertly crafted framework of indie, surf rock and psychedelia. The saturated guitar tones, Beach Boys-inspired harmonies, and booming, echoic drums of tracks like “Winnie and Rue” and “Grown Kids” allow them to soar into the stratosphere. Elsewhere, album closer “Lost In Rome” starts off in the sky and explodes upon reaching the ground, simmering beneath a fine-tuned mix of dissonant leads and spacey major seventh chords before concluding with the album’s heaviest, most stunning moment. Perhaps the desperate “Wood and Sticks” demonstrates the band’s proficiency in songwriting better than any other track on here, as it combines all of the aforementioned traits of the band’s music into a 4-minute package that could reasonably find a considerable amount of airplay. Emerging from a sludgy deluge of ambient fuzz, the song sits in an uncomfortably quiet tension for its first two minutes, the haunting vocal harmonies extending out from the surf motifs offered by the guitars to form an atmosphere that’s almost hallucinatory. And then, it happens. In the most magical moment on the entire record, “Wood and Sticks” changes on a dime, as a jarring entrance by the drums transforms the song from a dirge to a chase scene of sorts, the irregular IV-I-III chord progression creating the perfect amount of musical tension amid the dynamic fury. And then, just as soon as it began, the chase is over, giving way to another moment of psychedelic bliss before the song concludes.
The lyrics of “Wood and Sticks” is just as strong as the music, and they show specifically how the album’s greatest strength lyrically is its simplicity. I had listened to the record about 3 or 4 times before learning that it was a concept album, but even without this knowledge the lyrics were still able to paint vivid pictures in my head. The album’s simultaneously tongue-in-cheek and poignant story revolves around two teenagers who run away from home together, and therefore the entire record feels like some kind of anxious adventure. The lyrics are made stronger primarily by their delivery, as the band really sells it on every track. Whether one character is convincing another to join the great escape (“I love you, I love you, I really think it’s true/I’ve never met somebody just like you”), discovering that the city lights aren’t all they’re cracked up to be (“Really swinging, going faster than I’d like/Bells are ringing, gotta cover my eyes”), or losing faith in the one person they felt they could trust (“The way you speak to me makes me smoke till I’m numb”) the lyrics are sufficiently stirring and are capable of both grabbing attention and letting the music, the album’s true strength, speak for itself.
Above all, “Winnie and Rue” is unique. Every song is different, every moment unexpected, and every payoff satisfying. While the album is a bit short at 32 minutes and its humor and emotion sometimes don’t blend perfectly, it is an album that is well worth anyone’s time. Well executed lo-fi production, strong lyrics, and arresting musicianship - don’t pass this one up.
RECOMMENDED (*** = best track)
Winnie And Rue
Wood And Sticks***
Grown Kids
Lost In Rome
