Similar to its ominous namesakes stomping on pianos and breathing fiery guitars, The Beast and Dragon
Adored opens the latest Spoon album. Crooning like Ziggy Stardust-era David Bowie, Britt Daniel poses the question, Do you believe they call it rock and roll?
That's really the only way to describe Spoon these days. Back in the '90s, when the band was cranking out Pixies-esque fare, it might have been called indie rock. But the band's style is all-encompassing these days, combining the classic and modern with such flair that only a seemingly inadequate rock will do.
Gimme Fiction is not as immediately stunning as 2002's critical favorite Kill the Moonlight and it doesn't contain a song quite as classic as The Way We Get By
but upon multiple listens, the record sinks its hooks in and holds its own.
After the aforementioned opener, the album's first half does not dip in quality. The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine is a retro-pop delight with Glass Onion strings. I Turn My Camera On is minimalist funk at its finest.
The drop-off comes midway through the album, after the 12-string fury of Sister Jack. On early listens, the second half of the album seems to disappear.
The latter songs are darker, like fodder for a back-alley concert after the main gig is done. Was It You? boasts a slinky urban groove, while the pulsing They Never Got You adds an enjoyable pop edge to the sound of '70s German experimentalists Can -one of those bands every rock snob namechecks but few actually listen to on a regular basis.
Initially somewhat disappointing, Gimme Fiction is a grower. Daniel's songwriting is on par with any time in his career, and the band wraps around the tunes with expert precision and just enough intentional mess. It's comforting that a band can follow its universally acclaimed masterpiece with a record this strong.
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Chris Deville
