Now that we're in an era where reality TV and the Internet have replaced radio formats, we have a bumper crop of new bands with refreshing sounds and a lack of hype. After a welcome reprieve from all that cynicism The Neighbourhood, or NBHD, at first glance feel like a contrived product. With that whippet-thin Brit-boy "queen of the damned" look going on and a black-and-white color scheme that reeks of pretension, it's hard to take them seriously. The reality is that the presentation actually undersells who and what this band is all about.
The NBHD is actually from California and the band makes deceptively intricate and alluring music loaded with echo, subdued but pungent hooks, atmosphere, and vocalist Jessie Rutherford's million-dollar voice. Where newbies like Foster the People ( who tuck disturbing scenarios in addictive pop wrappings ) and fun. ( whose "We Are Young" was really a blatant radio anthem saved by a sincere approach ) wear their pop instincts on there sleeves, NBHD is all about something far more subversive. After getting a whiff of the debut I Love You ( Columbia Records ) last year, it was clear to me that this was not music designed to get wedged in your brain but to get lost in.
The alchemy of The NBHD is the combination of Rutherford's voice and skill at turning words combined with the architecture of the band's sound. Rutherford sings like a soiled angel, combining sweet sincerity with a silken sinister croon. Rather then being propped up front and on top of the bands soundscapes, he sounds like he's up to his tits in it. The kicker with this bunch is in treating the songs like shapeless mounds of clay with billowing textures, theatrical crashes, subtle layers and a warm bottomless echo that shrouds elegant melodies adding up to a massive whole. And then there are those hooks and intricate lyrics which Rutherford navigates slyly with his nagging rap/croon/spoken approach.
The NBHD dosen't reach to push a point lyrically or musically, they roll there songs out like endless spools of black silk with a calm inevitability. The end result is simultaneously haunting, engaging, fragile, addictive, a touch melancholy, and downright creepy ( think of John Merrick's dreams in the film version of The Elephant Man [1980] and you get the visual idea ). I can't remember the last time popular music seduced me rather then pummeled me into submission ( actually I can, it was Roxy Music's Avalon [Warner Bros] in 1982 ). By focusing on atmospherics and flavor The NBHD seem to care less about typical pop song structures and more about transporting the listener to another world where mood is everything. Even a relatively chipper love song like the hit "Sweater Weather" feels slightly forlorn, even while those hooks drag you in.
Getting "dragged in" is hardly such a bad thing and at there recent sold out show at the Aragon Ballroom, The NBHD took most of I Love You and turned it into an otherworldly event. After a positively horrific set from California band Kitten ( vocalist Chloe Chaidez wore me out in record time with her flailing-demon-aerobic-dance schtick ), it was a relief to feel the undertow of The NBHD's "Silver" and "No Gray." "Let It Go" brought things to an early crest while revealing a subtle point about this show; rather then hitting highlights, lulls, or climaxes it just wafted on and on.
By moving the show from The Riviera and going for the Aragon, with its abyss-like acoustics and muddy sound qualities, The NBHD got a great big fat lift; this was clearly the only band in the universe that could actually sound better in such a place ( Well not quite, "W.D.Y.W.F.M.?," literally imploded thanks to the dynamics of the space ). That hardly seemed to matter on this evening since the show was like a tsunami of atmospherics. Even the encore, the declaration of anger and depression known as "Afraid," with its killer chorus ( "You Kill Me/I don't like You/Fuck you anyway..." ), ended the night on a subdued dreamy note.
Now about that presentation... It's actually heartening to know that California has skinny, tattooed, milky-white, talented young ( the oldest members of the band are all of 22 ) creative guys running around making disarming original music. It gives the state a well-needed new reputation. And as for that high-contrast "Jack Kerouac by way of Helmut Newton" lookit makes total sense. They look like they sound, without a speck of cereal.
Heads-up: Chicago's own Peekaboos will be dropping its new video, "Heaven's Gate," in advance of there upcoming album on April 8. You can find it on the band's website.