TV On The Radio Album: Dear Science Label: Interscope Records/4AD TV On The Radio is the type of band that canâÄôt be limited to just one genre. They have a malleability topped only by their eclecticism as they dabble with everything from âÄô80s synthesizers to doo-wop crooning. These dudes are constantly testing the waters. This has never been more evident than on their latest release, âÄúDear Science,âÄù a simultaneously elegiac and funkadelic opus, containing such a wide array of instruments that it sounds more like an orchestral symphony than a rock album. WeâÄôre talking cellos, violins and even flutes. Yeah, brother âÄî flutes. Rock on. Of course, this isnâÄôt the first time that the band has employed such a vast instrumental arsenal. 2006âÄôs critically acclaimed âÄúReturn to Cookie Mountain âÄù had much of the same, and, like its predecessor, âÄúDear ScienceâÄù balances experimentation with the classic TVOTR sound. The persistent drones, heavy drumbeats and the dueling vocals of front man Tunde Adebimpe and guitarist/beard aficionado Kyp Malone are all familiar components, but it is the intricate composition and overall cleanliness of âÄúDear ScienceâÄù that implies a sense of progression from the last album. The first track, âÄúHalfway Home,âÄù initiates the strange dichotomy of darkness and delight that highlights the album. While essentially a requiem, the song hits hard with dark overtones and haunting lyrics about fallen friends. This candid gloom is then contrasted with jovial handclaps and jolly âÄúbom-bomsâÄù that make you want to get up and dance. This contradiction serves the song, making it both a joyous eulogy and a beautiful lament for those who died. Not everything on the album is that morbid; some songs bring the funk and they bring it hard. âÄúDancing ChooseâÄù is a frenetic rap underlined by slick âÄô70s guitar riffs and vigorous pre-marital sax. AdebimpeâÄôs voice is constantly building, growing to an angry shout that exemplifies all things TVOTR. ItâÄôs their passion that sets them apart and it shines through in spades on this track. âÄúGolden AgeâÄù is the most cheerful of the bunch, with a funky beat and high falsettos belting out the promise of a utopia coming to fruition in the near future. One has to wonder if this song has any political undertones, especially in the context of tracks like âÄúDLZâÄù and âÄúRed Dress,âÄù which blatantly chastise the government. While âÄúRed DressâÄù opens with a brazenly sung âÄú[Expletive] your war,âÄù âÄúDLZâÄù plays its hand more tactfully. Against the backdrop of ominous synthesizers, Adebimpe spouts an indicting staccato string of poignant lines: âÄúYou force your fire, then you falsify your deeds / Your methods dot the disconnect from all your creeds.âÄù The song marvelously arraigns the Bush Administration. In addition to being a political rebuke, the album has a diverse assortment of love songs. âÄúFamily TreeâÄù opens with an echoed piano that melts into overwhelmingly moving strings. The drawn-out violin is enough to make a grown man cry. Add to that a story of forbidden love and, by God, you have a heart-wrenching song. The album climaxes with a song on the other side of the love spectrum. The aptly titled âÄúLoverâÄôs DayâÄù is a saucy ode to sexual promiscuity with a handful of memorable lines. âÄúGive me the keys to your hiding place / I’m not gonna tear it apart / I’m gonna keep you weak in the knees / Try to unlock your heart.âÄù This album wants to have sex with you and it doesnâÄôt take âÄúnoâÄù for an answer. âÄúI hunger for you like a cannibal / Not gonna let you run / I’m gonna take you / I’m gonna shake you / I’m gonna make you come.âÄù ItâÄôs difficult to gracefully mix lustful ballads, political diatribes and introspective dirges, but TVOTR manages to find a balance that is both elegant and moving. The overall result is an album that transcends musical styles, while maintaining the raw passion that has become a staple of the group. TV On The Radio is the kind of band that restores peopleâÄôs faith in rock âÄônâÄô roll.
TV on the Radio = Pants on the floor
Published October 2, 2008
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