Review Summary: The best damn thing they've ever done. Period.
The second the thumping fuzz of "Satellite" began pumping through my headphones, I was both entranced and terrified. Entranced because I had not heard of anything quite like it before, and immediately fell in love with the uniqueness of the otherworldly sound and deep atmosphere (tell me, are those birds chirping in the background?). Terrified because, only one song into my real musical journey into TV on the Radio (I was only casually familiar with them before), I was actually frightened that they would become my favorite band.
Nothing on the entire album came to dissuade me from this possible realization. As the endless overdubs of Tunde Adebimpe's voice faded with a gentle and strangely belonging flute solo into a cappella vocalizations singing over a Mexican radio that signaled the beginning of "Staring at the Sun," I only fell deeper in love. Arguably the strangest track on the EP, "Staring at the Sun" is also the best, and apparently the band also thought so as it appears on their slightly disappointing debut album -- and ironically became the best song of that one too. The gentle melodies play against the lovely lovely fuzz that was present in the previous track. We have no idea why "The water's at your neck/There's lightning in your teeth" but we know that it's important as the unearthly echoes close this amazing track.
Without any fade-in, "Blind" immediately begins with a methodical and patient drumbeat that takes its time throughout the seven-minute long track. You would think that such a long song would need to be fast-paced to stay interesting, especially when such repetition is employed. But that isn't the point. The heavily blues-inspired sound mingles with the melancholy beat and guitars to create this world of heartache and loss. The repetition only serves to drive this point. "Blind" is easily the most straightforward song lyrically, and ultimately the most affecting. No one can't associate longing or loss with the month of December. The deep drone of the song fades out long after the final cry of "Save yourself, I'll save you all the time."
"Young Liars," the title track, is easily the most straightforward track on the album. Not to say it's a bad song by any means, it's a great song on it's own, it just doesn't do things much differently than the other tracks preceding it did. With each earlier song came a new dimension of the band, and "Young Liars" simply seems to serve as a declaration of "This is probably what we're going to sound like for a while when we're not being too weird." The guitars and sultry vocals simmer over a chiming instrument, the song sounds vaguely like the waves of heat you see on a steaming day, as the song glides toward its pre-determined ending.
While the fourth track was without much surprise or incident, a hidden track appears (though for those of you who listen online as I did at first before purchasing a physical copy it won't be very hidden). It reveals itself in the form as an entirely a cappella version of "Mr. Grieves," originally a punk-rock song by The Pixies. Instead of being anything remotely expected, Mr. Grieves is turned into a dark, downright creepy song with overdubs upon overdubs of Adebimpe's vocals being turned into enough harmonies that it sound like he's singing the parts for every instrument the band would normally have. And boy is it a slice of fried gold.
Ultimately, sadly, TV on the Radio did not become my favorite band of all-time. The "Young Liars" EP, while a downright masterpiece, turned out to be the best damn thing that TVotR ever released (Dear Science is a close second). This completely unexpected mix of funk and blues and rock created the most solid list of songs they've ever offered, and no album ever managed to have such a solid average of perfect songs to great ones.
Young Liars EP: 9.5/10
Satellite: 9
Staring at the Sun: 9.5
Blind: 9
Young Liars: 8
Mr. Grieves: 9
