Nada Surf - 'Lucky '
(Barsuk, 2008)
Rating: 8

Finding a negotiable balance between that which is weighty and airy is a daunting task for any band, especially one that flirts with full-scale pop accessibility while remaining rooted in the indie guitar stratosphere. When your career trajectory is equal parts cautionary tale and Cinderella story, a mastery of any form would seem unlikely, yet Nada Surf have managed to not only rebound from early major label carnage but thrive on their own terms in mapping out a career both consistent with and above and beyond the promise they exhibited in their formative years. With their latest release, Lucky, the band continues its evolution, as the unit has matured into a group capable of juxtaposing the nuances of a self-doubting mind against the backdrop of supremely confident rhythmic outpourings. Lucky finds the band a little more subdued than previous releases, but the contemplative nature of the album only underscores the maturation process at hand for a group seemingly poised to merge potential with actuality. Perhaps most importantly, Nada Surf remain above all else eminently listenable, as whatever doubts plague their mind never contaminate their sense for melody.

Album openers aren’t always indicative of the tone or flow of a record, but in Lucky’s case, it’s probably no coincidence that songwriter Matthew Caws chose See These Bones to commence the proceedings. The track begins with a plaintive wail of a chord, as Caws opines “Everyone is right and no one is sorry/ That’s the start and the end of the story.” As the track progresses, layers of sound are added alongside a chorus in which skeletal remains entreat their human counterparts to consider the fleeting nature of their corporeal condition. The song is more Lovely Bones than Layne Staley, but the most noteworthy aspect of the track is the way in which Caws and company build their composition, as they add elements in ways that enhance the overall flow with out diminishing any of the individual facets. The band applies the same dynamic with a janglier bent in Whose Authority, on which Caws unleashes his tenor/borderline falsetto to maximum effect. Caws has always been an accomplished guitarist, but it’s the use of his voice and taste for harmony that has enabled Nada Surf to make the transition from their earlier fuzzed out efforts to their present state with requisite confidence. The band can still crank it up, but Lucky demonstrates their ability and willingness to fill a space with something other than the stomp of a pedal.

Caws basically sums up the overriding outlook of the album on Here Goes Something as he advises “Look around…what a mess” over an acoustic riff that sounds like a Johnny Cash backbeat. The disarray that Caws seems to allude to with regard to his psyche stands in direct opposition to the confidence that the band’s music communicates, as this duality helps to keep Nada Surf’s perspective fresh and familiar all at once. One of the album’s strongest moments occurs on the twangy ballad Are You Lightning, which recalls the former glory of 2003’s Let Go standout Blonde on Blonde. It’s the kind of track that signifies the brand of maturity Nada Surf have been working towards for the better part of a decade, even if Caws muses about “acting as if I’m 21”. There is an inherent melancholia that marks most of this album and much of Nada Surf’s latter day work in general, but the band seems content to merely acknowledge and examine this aspect of their being while stopping short of surrender. Whether lyrically or melodically, there is always room for optimism in the recesses of Caws’ brain, even if he has somewhat of a compulsion for highlighting the myriad ways in which things can go awry.

Whereas previous works featured a healthy snark factor, the band has grown to appreciate overt stabs at romanticism. Their growth is similarly apparent instrumentally, as the band continues to showcase an ever burgeoning comfort with the precision of clean and clear tones they once almost entirely forsook for their distorted counterparts. Drummer Ira Elliot and bassist Daniel Lorca perfectly follow their frontman’s lead throughout the proceedings, as their efforts round out Caws’ compositions in ways that give his musings the texture required in justifying repeated listening. The album closes on an appropriately austere note with The Film Did Not Go ‘Round, as Caws notes that “everyone’s got to leave their love sometime” while duetting with singer/songwriter Lianne Smith. While his delivery is believable enough, Caws gives ample evidence throughout Lucky that desertion isn’t an option for a band that has discovered that time is indeed on their side.

- Brant Miles