I know lapsing into hyperbole is a common and sometimes unfortunate feature of blogs, but I haven’t gushed in quite a while, so if you’ll permit me, today is going to be the day. The subject of my gushing is Antarctica Takes It!, one of the best new bands I’ve heard in years, and their debut record The Penguin League (available for a mere six bucks from their myspace page).
The embodiment of everything lo-fi was ever meant to be, they exude joyfulness without pretense and feature a sound so warm it could keep you comfortable on even the coldest of Antarctic nights. While many sections are as basic as can be – just a boy and his guitar – others are backed by a veritable orchestra of harmonicas, glockenspiels, strings, bells, and dueling harmonies. How they manage to incorporate so much while maintaining a feeling of perfect sparseness, I have no idea. But it’s a thing of delicate beauty.
I’ve scoured the internets to try and find out more about them, but sadly there’s not a lot out there. One comment I’ve run into a few times is that the low sound quality ruins the record. I get where this is coming from (it is VERY lo-fi), but in my opinion that is precisely its beauty. I have no idea if it was a matter of intention or simply having no other options, but the unfettered recording style employed on this record is what makes it magical. Unencumbered by the bells and whistles of production, the pure galloping joy of the music is allowed to run free.
To provide some perspective: in a month full of great new music from the likes of the Decemberists, the Hold Steady, Jeremy Enigk, and yes, even the Killers, this is probably my favorite record precisely because it has none of the pretensions, bombast, or self-aware meaningfulness of those albums. In that respect, they remind me of the early Carissa’s Wierd, who demonstrated that hushed vocals and lo-fi recording produced a more genuinely human product than any million dollar project ever could.
Basically, this record is the shy and unassuming girl with pigtails and glasses who sits in the corner quietly reading a Harry Potter book, but who still manages to far outshine a crowded room full of beauty queens, intellectual superstars, and aspiring hipsters.
The best song on the record, and possibly my favorite song of 2006. I talked about it in my Antarctica post a couple months ago (“At times soft and tender, at others gloriously carefree, it careens through a number of different tones but never loses its pure beauty. It’s lo-fi as can be, but is astonishingly well-constructed.”), and it has done nothing but grow on my since then.
It tells the tale of an Antarctic expedition, which begins in peaceful tranquility (“We traced shapes across the starry skies / And made our way through each tender night / We heard the weary whales’ tune / And sang along neath the silver moon”), but ends in tragedy. An attack by a giant squid, sailors sinking to the depths of the frozen ocean, and yet somehow it retains a sense of wonderment as they exclaim “Antarctica, you stole our hearts!”
It also contains some of the very best lyrics I’ve heard all year. The line above is one example, but another I can’t get over is: “We felt the madness shake our souls / And grew our beards down to our toes.” Toss in some great imagery (“on this frosty winedark sea” or even the opening couplet: “We stole away from the crown of flame / For a cold land without a name”), and you’ve got a classic in the making.
Like a macabre and distorted Springsteen song, this is a strangely touching series of vignettes about the forlorn and abandoned. From a father who mourns the loss of his son by placing the heart “in a tiny mason jar” to a man who finds his final destiny in the burning flames, these are far more Ray Bradbury than anything else. And yet, like Bradbury, there is a strange pathos in their bizarreness. For all its peculiarity, the common elements of loss and the madness of love ring true. And could it sound more adorable? I think not.
This song takes on the theme of true love that somehow manages to find a way. But once again, while they may deal with some traditional topics, they have their own unique take, as exemplified by the final line: “And all of your molecules will fall apart, but the pull of your light still finds me.” It’s a rather beautiful (if totally dorky) way to think about the strength of love. And that bounding harmonica just makes my knees weak.
These three songs are probably my favorites, but every track on the record is worth hearing. The theme of happy tunes which accompany unearthly lyrics runs throughout the album. From the rapid urgency of “I’m No Lover” which is surely the most pleasant song ever to contain a line like “I would turn your lover’s bones into tiny violins to play when you die,” to “My Friend Sam Saarni” which draws on a number of images of the living dead. And there are some slower numbers to break up the flow, including the violin-touched “Heart of Stone” and the lonesome farewell of “Goodbye” that closes the album.
We’ll have to see how it stands up to a few months more listening, but right now The Penguin League is easily one of my 5 favorite records of the year. I know they’re not for everyone, but if you’re into twee, indie pop, the Field Mice, Belle and Sebastian, Page France, or anyone like them, they may be just right for you. And have I mentioned the album’s only six bucks? Go buy it now!