Grizzly Bear - YellowHouse

Mon 11th Sep, 2006 in Music Reviews

There are many reasons why we yearn for the halcyon days of our childhood. One being the memory of worlds woven from an imagination yet to be impeded by grown-up boundaries. We were free to title ourselves as kings and queens, conquer universes and explore far flung corners of the globe without ever leaving the den we made from a doona under the dining room table. And then we hit puberty, and finally adulthood and within a heartbeat we’re trudging down reality’s high street, with the weight of careers, relationships and social responsibility on our back…not a mythical world in sight.

But, if you look hard enough there are pockets of magic still to be found in our grown-up existence.  Spaces where there is a refusal to accept that convention is king, and that for things to be ‘proper’ rules are to be obeyed not broken.  Such a place exists in Grizzly Bear’s Yellow House. A labyrinth of glorious home-spun tunes that takes folk, an early 20th century waltz, banjos, soft flutes and autoharp; throws them in a pot to stew with a dash of  “electronics and treatments” and mixes it together with a clutch of voices that bloom across arrangements that shun the standard verse/chorus/verse/chorus.

Self-recorded, in part, at the ‘yellow house’ belonging to lead singer Edward Droste’s mother, the album sounds as if the band spent their time there exploring the various nooks and crannies to unearth its histories and secrets. ‘Marla’ takes the dust sheets off a 1930s piano waltz written by Droste’s aunt, and coaxes it back to life with strings, a fluttering snare and playful flutes. ‘Easier’ opens with a vaudeville piano before tumbling over Droste’s ‘do,do,do’ with a beguiling blend of banjo, soft shuffle drums and elegant backing vocals.

Like a family patchwork quilt, each element of Grizzly Bear’s songs has been carefully selected and stitched together; each section complements the whole but could also be heard alone as mini-masterpieces. ‘Knife’ starts as a charming ‘60s style ballad, before vocals melt into swirling psychedelia, then return to Droste as he asks ‘can’t you feel the knife’ against a lush mix of violins and brass. ‘On a Neck on a Spit’ is a warm and rustic melody that cuts suddenly to an epic slice of voice, drums and guitar, followed by Droste’s sprightly vocal that eventually disappears into a muddy crescendo.

It’s not necessarily that Brooklyn’s Grizzly Bear are trailblazing here, in fact if you’re looking for a recent point of reference think of the latter half of Animal Collective’s ‘Feels’ and its multi-hued, elongated sound scapes. What makes this album so special is an ability to contain, within its arbitrary frameworks, a selection of seductive melodies that quietly sneak under your skin. At its heart is pop’s easy hooks but they’re presented in a manner that suggests the band has let its imagination do the hard yards rather than the commercial leanings of any record company producer.

In short, Yellow House is a gorgeous reminder of what we’re capable of when we keep adult sensibilities at bay and why the creative freedoms we enjoyed as children needn’t, perhaps, be a dim and distant memory.