Review Summary: There's always more to it.
Per its understood conventional traits, pop as a genre is typically designed to present a more uplifting melody that makes mass appeal more probable. It immediately offers a cover for a band to hide behind, laying down a memorable beat to woo the crowd, simultaneously taking the opportunity to quietly inject lyricism that is far from sunny in its tone. This is enjoyed by a majority; consider the long-term success of “Mr. Brightside” despite the fact its repeated verse, when unpacked, isn’t exactly peachy. Essentially, the protagonist is resigned to a relationship that will never be, the object of his affection consistently slipping away with another man; or she actually is faithful to him and is having a regular social interaction, the betrayal a delusion in his head that he can’t shake off. But—gosh darn it!—Brandon Flowers just has such a pretty voice, and that chorus is a certified earworm. There lingers a type of dissonance, however, whenever a listener
does decide to pull away the façade and truly ingest the message hidden in that attractive guitar line. What was once simple or carefree is suddenly transformed into a construct that contains considerably more depth. Those times humming along to the melody or singing along loudly at a party contort, the listener then left to wrestle with the all-too common question of music appreciation: How am I supposed to feel about this? I bring this up because there is a moment on
Pretend You’re Alive that made me hang on this question for years. It arrives in the conclusion of the powerful “Down Towards the Healing” as the instrumentation ramps up, the massive sound of the track reaching a bombastic peak. Calling above this triumphant section of compelling musicianship, the vocalist repeatedly yells out “Hallelujah, I’m not breathing.” The guitars do not crumble under the weight of this declaration, nor does the temperament shift to accompany this utterance. It hangs in the air, creeps around the room, and sits there, its unanswered question resonating so loudly it’s as if an oceanic storm burst through the door.
Much like Modest Mouse and other albums that are near and dear to me, Lovedrug’s debut effort,
Pretend You’re Alive, did not truly open up to me until it was taken on the road. There is something profound about being alone on an unending stretch of pavement, the sky arching overhead, its size too incredible to comprehend as it blankets the Midwestern landscape. Street lights hang lazily, their plain appearance transformed as the sun sets and their glowing hues are projected onto the highway—silent guides outlining the journey home, even when the music in the CD player is commanding a completely new direction towards no destination. These sorts of settings cause my mind to lower its guard and become most susceptible to whatever negative thoughts are brewing in the deeper corners of consciousness. Perhaps, all things considered, Lovedrug were always going to get the best of me in time, and it was rather strange it didn’t happen sooner. Either way, I was sitting in my car, the stars faintly shining above as “Down Towards the Healing” slowly emerged from the speakers, its gentle piano and soft vocal performance striking me in a manner that eluded me previously. The entirety of this album is up to its knees in tonal contradictions, a despondent atmosphere flaunted about with a candy-laced smile as the collective slyly attempts to distract the senses. Delicious hooks are available in droves, a groovy bass is omnipresent in each song, understated guitars supply a good sum of delightful passages, and charismatic vocals color the individual numbers. The confident songwriting on display belies the helplessness abound in multiple entries; one starts to notice more how the singing occasionally wavers in a faint, vulnerable way, while the infrequent piano appearance morphs from elegant to tragic, the keys becoming the soundtrack to a funeral march.
I realize that my current description of the record at hand is very dire indeed. While the shadows are tall, it is difficult to deny that Lovedrug is incredibly enjoyable and unforgettable when given the “Mr. Brightside” treatment. Without going deeper into the exact instrumental tonality and vocal presentation of the songs,
Pretend You’re Alive is about as fun an alternative rock listen as one can find. To begin with, there is the droning riff propelling introductory track “In Red,” its static-laden production and cacophonous conclusion prompting compulsory headbanging to the crunchy guitars. On the extreme end of the spectrum, there are the almost-nauseatingly radio-friendly romps “Spiders” and “Rocknroll.” Both of these examples sport a chorus simplistic in its content and delivery so as to maximize the ease of memorization. Whereas “Spiders” features a gorgeous crescendo into an instrumental peak and a commanding tenor vocal high note, “Rocknroll” proceeds on a more linear path, its central lure being a rollicking, mid-tempo guitar melody that bounces along each verse. Throughout such aforementioned formations and fellow tunes like “The Monster,” the bass occupies a prominent role in the output—an additional detail that enhances the solid foundation laid by the percussion and effective guitar arrangements. It is in this inclusion that Lovedrug’s attention to the finer aspects of their craft is made abundantly clear. For instance, in the case of “In Red,” the bass is thunderous, resonating loudly and clearly in the enigmatic aesthetic of the twangy lead riff, its distinct timbre pulsating in the forefront of the mix. In the latter sample, its groovy nature is the backbone of the song; the tone of the string instrument compliments the intensity and simultaneous ominous mood uncovered in the number. Be it for their playful disposition or their immediacy, the melodies of Lovedrug appear to be infinite, with special touches offered by the bass and restrained percussion pushing them to higher acclaim.
In considering the emotions of the songs, however, the previously-defined rabbit hole slowly swallows up the listener. Of the more outwardly poppy creations, “In Red,” “Spiders,” and “Rocknroll” emerge unscathed. Beyond that, well over half of the included compositions on the disc are distant from this comforting realm, and it is in this meticulous construction of tonal dissonance where Lovedrug excel. It is also within this world where complex feelings and difficult questions are unceremoniously forced upon the more sensitive individual, especially when unprepared for the depressive odyssey ahead. By no coincidence are these the songs where the piano functions as a critical factor in establishing an emotive sonic landscape. The first time it is encountered is in the title track where it serves as the dominating melody, its graceful output leading the tune onward before fueling the anthemic chorus. In the closing minute of the eponymous venture, it merges with the drumming to form an unrelenting, crushing wall of sound that falls down upon the listener, the despondent configurations sounding detached, observing from a distance as the drama develops. One must reckon with its recurrence in “Down Towards the Healing” where the melancholic atmosphere is provided little shelter to conceal itself with. The distinctive keys ring out in the forefront of the song, eventually taking a background position as the guitar riffs takes lead. There is a moment of restraint in the latter half—just the vocals and the gentle pressing of the keys—before the band bursts out of the gate, soaring high notes clawing to rise above pounding strings and percussion. A similar direction is witnessed in the entrance and progression of “Candy.” The piano successfully founds a mood before the bulk of the tune is heard, then it restores its presence to aid a lurid conclusion.
Although the piano is a necessary element in cementing Lovedrug’s conflicting emotional responses, it would be a gimmick if not for its expert placement in arrangements. The awesome climaxes abound in the group’s more miserable forays are seen elsewhere. These gents clearly mastered the intricate art of tying songs together with a satisfying ending that justifies the verses and choruses building up to it. As in the epic “It Won’t Last,” such culminations take the form of rowdy outbursts of sound, the guitars, bass, and percussion merging into an unstoppable force as the vocals grow in strength. In the case of the aforementioned number, the band runs off in a jam session, ironically refusing to terminate the melody and letting the powerful sound endure. Uniting this commendable ability with poignant lyricism is how Lovedrug are capable of making comparatively short entries as fathomless as an abyss. The heartbreaking beauty of “Down Towards the Healing” is buried deep in the titular number, particularly the chorus:
So fall in love while you can
still hold your head up high
and pretend that you're alive again.
It's friends that leave you here in the end
so hold your head up high
and pretend that you're alive.
This is performed like a pop anthem meant to be yelled at a dance club, but the content seems entirely divorced from that environment. The audience is presented an apparent positive—falling in love while confident in oneself—but contradicts it by saying it doesn’t
actually help. Instead, it is nothing but a false salvation; one is only pretending to be pleased and the love does not vanquish the void. Following this is the declaration of friends inevitably departing from life, with the narrator urging the audience to again construct a smile and pretend it is actually happiness. This sentiment governs the entirety of “Candy”; the groovy bass line and playful strumming mask prose regarding the demise of a relationship, wherein one half of the equation seems to emerge as appearing more righteous than the other. A line such as “You're all the rage / You're all the fun / But ever if you cross me / I'll get you / Sweet revenge is just a matter of time” becomes so much more sinister and anguished when provided this disagreeing backdrop.
The vocal performance delivered on these various lyrics is worthy of praise for its unique character and varied expression. In the hands of another singer, it is undeniable that
Pretend You’re Alive would lose the charisma and emotional vulnerability offered by its lead. There is certainly a nasally quality to be had, a trait that leads to a very distinct quality of singing, but there is considerable energy found pushing every climactic high note. Take the ending of “Down Towards the Healing” and how every line is belted out so powerfully, perfectly accompanying the ringing instrumentation. Moments of fragility are embodied in the soft, purposefully-limited closer “Paper Scars.” At less than two minutes, frontman Michael Shepard manages to quickly capture such a striking, aching mood, his vocals slowly fading off in the repeated phrase of “You said you’re sorry.” More than anywhere else, Shepard sounds close to finally bending, breaking into pieces as the subject matter unravels—self-harm or otherwise. An assortment of other styles appear, from the carefree verses of “Rocknroll,” the display of confidence and broader range on “Spiders,” and the rougher method explored during “The Monster,” Shepard’s voice opting for a rare turn towards a harsher edge. Essentially, the vocals are malleable, their presentation morphing to match the individual song. When the percussion abandons its restrained status and begins to crash down, the singing appropriately rises to meet it. Similarly, during the groovy bass lines or melodic lead guitars, the performance transitions to a pop-esque swagger brimming with self-assurance. While Shepard’s special addition is very much an asset to Lovedrug’s success, it is not simply based on the fact that his voice stands out. Instead, it is how his expressions are perfect compliments to the songwriting, and how this cooperation can equate to whatever emotional reaction the collective desires.
It's an amazing feat to demonstrate an advanced level of talent at an early stage in a band’s career. Most groups are able to showcase a praiseworthy amount of potential that leaves excitement for future endeavors. Those rare gems where an act comes out swinging are compelling spectacles and are worthy to behold, with each song so tightly constructed it defies the apparent limitations of age. The slow-to-mid-tempo rockers and ballads adorning the duration of the nearly one hour
Pretend You’re Alive are impressively connected; there is an engaging ebb and flow between differing peaks of emotion, all of which are guided by that despondent aesthetic that is crafted with absolute expertise. At times detached and at times forceful in its approach, the instrumentation organized by Lovedrug allows for an album that can be sung with friends while concurrently being open to private, personal sessions with emotions fully poured out. It is quite possibly everything that could be desired from a pop-leaning alternative rock record. There remains an undeniable replay value in order to appreciate the several hooks and the straightforward, catchy guitar lines that accompany them, as well as the reliable bass attendance and the disciplined approach of the percussion kit. Having a delicate piano in the mix—grace in the face of tragic lyricism—is a trope, to be sure, but its implementation here works wonders. Then, to tie the package together, there is a dynamic vocal performance from frontman Shepard that adds a unique touch to the sound crafted on the LP. Regardless of what purpose the listener has for opening
Pretend You’re Alive, Lovedrug will fulfill it to its greatest extent. I would contend that, to accurately comprehend the artistic merit of the disc produced, it wouldn’t hurt to take it in the car, buckle in, and let the night sky reveal its secrets.
