The surf rock duo is ready to wax philosophic on their cheery, balanced sophomore album.
For a couple of philosophers who put down their instruments supposedly forever, Tennis’ Patrick Riley and Alaina Moore are producing albums at a faster rate than Coldplay. Last year’s underground favorite Cape Dory was written as the two, then unmarried, sailed the ocean for seven months together. This year’s Young & Old was written as the two, now married, toured the country after Dory’s release.
It would seem that traveling together makes conditions ripe for the creative process. Where Dory was comprised of songs written during the long days on the sea originally meant for only their four ears, Young & Old’s tunes were written specifically with an audience in mind. This album also features a grittier sound thanks to the recording direction of Patrick Carney (The Black Keys), who Tennis chose specifically for his “dirty, bluesy, rock background,” as their label, Fat Possum, states on its website. The label also claims this sophomore release as possessing a “greater landscape of ideas and feelings"—but to my ears, every song still feels like the soundtrack to an Annette Funicello beach movie, or an open convertible drive down the coast of California. It is this breezy '60s-reminiscent retro-pop, surf rock sound that makes the Denver duo stand apart from peers. Electric guitar and Moore’s youthful vocals still dominate the album, but the overall presence of the sounds have been stepped up.
Almost as if to answer their first album, Young & Old opens with “It All Feels the Same.” The song begins with the band’s signature surf guitar sound and some tambourine to set your feet to tapping. A few bars in and you can catch the sound of an organ. The addition of the drums later leads to a full but not overwhelming sound. The chorus features a grittier, dirtier guitar sound—evidence of Carney’s influence and the direction the band is moving.
“Origins,” the album’s first single, follows in like manner—same guitar sound to open, but the drums are included from the beginning and the grittier guitar makes its presence known earlier—this time as an accent rather than a layer. The lyrics of the chorus expose the pair’s background in philosophy and penchant for deep thoughts: Is it so hard to forgive the way that we are made to live/ How much is required to set things right/ Have you confused your power with might?
The waxing philosophic continues in “My Better Self” as Moore laments in the opening line, “My better self still knows that meaning comes and goes.” The song reminds me of Solomon’s laments in Ecclesiastes. The tune is a step back from the bubbling opening of the album, more of a ballad style. The mood doesn’t stay down for long, though. The following track, “Traveling,” instantly peps you back up, with an excuse for a few head nods and hip shakes. Nothing about this track is particularly outstanding except that it’s just plain fun, with a few charming organ bridges, the likes of which you don’t frequently hear on today’s airwaves.
The happy carefree style is countered in “Petition” with heavier drums and piano instead of cymbals and organ. Moore’s voice is in its lower register, giving it a more subdued sound as well. The surf attitude is back in “Robin,” which instantly catches the ear with the guitar, drums and organ regularly beating fun time. Lyrically there’s nothing particularly brilliant to hear here; it’s a song about a bird that has apparently survived a fairly fierce storm. Presumably one could read more into it, but I prefer thinking it’s just a song about a bird.
“High Road” finally brings in the drum sound reminiscent of “Wipeout” that I associate with surf rock, but this time pushed much further into the background. The feel of the track is balanced by the weight of the closing bridge noting, Paradise is all around/ but happiness is never found. Despite the heavy end, the next track picks up the mood a bit with “Dreaming.” The sounds pull you out of whatever dream you might have dropped into and declares, “I’m dreaming I can still believe in you.” There is an impressive vocal echo fade to take the sound out, too. It might be my favorite single moment of the album.
While the vocals and rhythm seem to lead the charge for the whole of the album, “Take Me to Heaven” has a beautiful falling arpeggiated piano line running through the background. The album ends with the cheerful “Never to Part.” The tune opens with what sounds like “Heart & Soul” and starts off a little grittier than it ends. It is the opposite of the opening track, giving the album the feel of a cohesive progression and return to its origin. As the only song that seems to give obvious mention to the couple’s nuptials in the course of the past year, the lyrics sing, Do not furrow that perfect brow/ chaste lips never to part til now.
An album full of balancing acts and with the same kind of happy-go-lucky sounds as She & Him, Young & Old is like a coffee break for a world-weary ear. As a follow-up album, especially one so close to the debut (barely over 12 months), it is successful—more of the same, only wiser and matured. Plus, it clocks in under 35 minutes—so at the least, it's a pleasant way to spend your lunch break.
Heather Wible loves all things music, beverage and word related. You can follow her rants and ramblings on Twitter @hnwible and at http://thewibbler.blogspot.com.
