Every once in while, there comes an album that leaves you speechless - Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest is that album. There are, of course, two very dissimilar reactions to this: some don’t know what to make of what they’re hearing; others are pretty much like the first, but the difference is that they’d be pinching themselves for reassurance that they’re actually listening to a record this augustly intricate and perennially impressive. Hailing from the epicentre of indie music, the Brooklyn quartet has painted a colourful sonic landscape throughout the years: from the homely feel of "Horn of Plenty" to the haunting "Yellow House" and now their third full-length record promises to outline their harmonic arc with a singular clarity that’s bolder and louder than ever before.
Because the instrumentation here is so lavish and composite, I find it hard to describe the kind of sonic fabric Grizzly Bear has sewn. More than anything, it’s a patchwork of the old and new. Throttling seamlessly from baroque-pop to neo-psychedelia to experimental rock to freak-folk and back again. The best thing about the album is its dicey nature; it teases and ruses you with melodies that are seemingly orthodox, but it unknowingly comes from behind and deliver a sucker punch to your head so you wouldn’t even know what had hit you.
“Southern Point” opens up the album to a romping start. It feels like a cacophonous blizzard of dueling string play against Daniel Rossen’s vocals, showered in icy synth beats and rapturous drum work. Picture the midpoint between Here We Go Magic’s "Here We Go Magic" and Animal Collective’s "Merriweather Post Pavilion" and you’ll get the idea. “Two Weeks” immediately brings forth a turn of tides with opening lyrics like “Save up all the days / A routine malaise / Just like yesterday / I told you I would stay”; the song speaks to us with an equivocal casualness that’s very cryptic and very cool.
“All We Ask” is a folksy post-rock sequence before the bongos and cello lines take over, exposing its freak-folk interior. “Dory” swims its way into a ghostly lake of choir phrases that casts a creepy but somewhat reposing spell. “Cheerleader” and “While You Wait for The Others” explores more of the band’s chamber pop side, and they qualify as the band’s quirkier charmers that’ll leave you beaming just listening to them. The last of the three songs which features the Brooklyn Youth Choir, “Foreground” brings the album to a sublime, disquieting close – the exact aftertaste Grizzly Bear intended.
Although Veckatimest remains a stunning album, it’s not without its flaws. The three songs right after “Dory” could have been one continuous piece altogether as they seem to be searching for a distinctive melody. “I Live with You” is another discursive song wedged in between two good numbers, spoiling the penultimate climax that the album deserves. Also, the lyrical skeleton here could do better with more of a sapient appeal, something that would enhance the album as a whole by serving as a connective vessel to Veckatimest’s myriad of intertwining sonic membrane.
Along the lines of art-rock ornamentation, there’s the danger of coming across as forced and feigned, but Grizzly Bear’s deconstruction of conventional music hooks is too nuanced to come off as irksomely show-offish. The songs here don’t jump at you like an angry creature, but if you take the time to explore them, they will reveal themselves to be rewarding sensual treats and that, I believe, is the greatest payoff in Veckatimest.