After crossing over from the indie ghetto into the US mainstream with last album `Plans' (platinum Stateside but largely unnoticed over here) Atlantic will be looking to `Narrow Stairs' to break DCfC in the UK. Despite that success, DCfC haven't sat back on their laurels and then put out `Plans II'. `Narrow Stairs' uses a broader musical palate than their earlier work and reflects the growing experience and ambition of lead guitarist and producer Chris Walla. These are songs that have a strong skeleton onto which the layers of instrumentation are built: Gibbard has said that he `made a conscious decision to sit down with the guitar and make sure they could all be played on an acoustic'. And in comparison with `Plans' there's a more spontaneous feel. `Narrow Stairs' still occupies the broad firmament of American indie, literate, melancholy, introspective, but this time out, there's an experimental edge to the music. Radiohead meets The National? Wilco meet Coldplay?
Lyrically however the songs here are almost unremittingly despairing, chronicling the loss of innocence and an increasing sense of pointlessness; the loss of idealism followed by despairing compromise. If there are relationships at all, they whither and die, but dreams of love have largely been replaced by attempts to ward off loneliness. As an insight into Gibbard's current state of mind, Narrow Stairs' paints a frightening picture, only confirmed by his subsequent musings. Fortunately the musical backdrop shows a lighter touch, or wrists would be slit before the final track fades.
Talking about Bixby Bridge Gibbard referred to `the romance of the road, particularly from Kerouac's work, encapsulated how I wanted to live'. He has also talked about the consequences of choosing to live in that way, for Kerouac and ultimately for himself: `...you end up with a series of failed relationships and you end up being an alcoholic...and not having any kind of real grip on the lives of the people around you. I run the risk of losing touch with the people in my life that mean the most to me because I have made the decision to live like this.' `Why did I think I was going to come here and have this place change my life?' he mused `I wanted it so badly. I wanted to cleanse myself with this place...' Expressing his sense of failure and confusion, he says: `The epiphany never came. I'm just as confused now as when I got here six months ago...I'd totally idealised what I'd be able to accomplish down here. At some point I thought that, as I got older, I'd come to terms with a lot of things. I'd solve some big problems, and eventually I'd become content. But I don't think that'll ever happen'. This internal turmoil and sense of desperation permeates the whole album from opening track "Bixby Canyon Bridge", where Gibbard's distinctive high tenor over muscular riffing narrates a trip in the footsteps of Kerouac, seeking enlightenment. Surely he muses, there must be more to life than this. But the sojourn ends in disillusion `...and I trudged back to where the car was parked, no closer to any kind of truth...'
On first single `I Will Possess Your Heart' a long percussive intro, repeats and builds, propelled by bass and drums overlaid with a simple repeated melodic fragment on keyboard and vibes. A rejected lover just can't let go, and his devotion is turning to obsession and possibly something darker. Gibbard has said this song is `about the inevitable disappointment people feel as they move through life, and things don't feel the way they expect. No experience will ever match up to the idealised version in your mind'.
`Cath...' is the first of a series of songs journaling the awful choices that we sometimes have to make in relationships. To compromise, and commit to someone who falls short of our ideal, or to allow our hearts to die. And Cath's choice seems particularly desperate to Gibbard who paints himself as someone who, had she but realised it, would have loved her. In a similar vein in `You can do better...' the protagonist recognises where he's well off, even though he's regularly tempted to stray, while `Your New Twin Sized Bed' with its hypnotically repeated chiming guitar figure offers the story of someone who has given up on ever finding a life partner. Seeing how defeated the subject is, the narrator is terrified by the awful thought of what his own future might hold. On `Pity and Fear' nameless partners of casual liaisons, entered into to dull the pain of loneliness, walk away apparently free from consequences while the protagonist sinks deeper and deeper.
On `No Sunlight' the bouncy summery music belies the lyrical content: the death of youthful innocence and optimism is followed by a desperate nihilistic despair, while `Grapevine Fires' offers some hopefulness amidst the blackness, because while it may only be `a matter of time before we all burn' the singer professes himself `content to spend that time here with you - there's nowhere I'd rather be'.
`The Ice Is Getting Thinner' is hardly a hopeful note on which to finish the album as Gibbard chronicles the slow demise of a relationship, as a couple grow apart, finding less and less in common but reluctant to say out loud what they know in their hearts, that the love that they shared is just an empty shell. Coloured by steel / slide guitar, this spare sparse piece comes as a relief after the relentlessly busy, driving, propulsive procession of songs that precede it.
'Narrow Stairs' is a step forward for a band that's continuing to develop, if not the giant leap that some were hoping for.
