The Con – Tegan and Sara
Dark Come Soon – Tegan and Sara
I mentioned Tegan and Sara a couple weeks ago when listing my top 10 records of the year so far. Their new record The Con came in at #2, despite my promise to myself that I was only going to list records that had been officially released – it was just too good to leave it off the list. Well, yesterday was the big day of the release, so I no longer feel any compunction against a little gushing.
Put simply, this is their breakthrough record. I don’t mean that in the sense of popular success (though I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if that happened), but rather that this is their first complete work, with a fully realized musical landscape, a sense of emotional urgency, and perhaps most importantly, with no weak moments.
As with all of their albums, my sympathies lie mostly with Tegan. Indeed, until this one, I would really have to say I was a Tegan fan who liked a couple of Sara’s songs. And while that dynamic hasn’t shifted completely here, even those songs from Sara that don’t quite hit their mark with me still lend a critical balance which I can fully appreciate.
This is clear from the first four tracks. Three of the four are richly textured songs from Sara, characterized by a number of deft melodic touches. Each is more about the journey than the destination, the buildup more than the payoff. In contrast, Tegan’s one track is the rambunctious pop masterpiece “The Con” which is packed with more pop hooks than anything you’ve heard from the New Pornographers since “Letter From an Occupant.” It pays homage to the same 80s bands that have recently inspired folks like The Killers and Franz Ferdinand, with more than a couple flourishes from keyboards and synthesizers, but it only works because there is such a strong melodic structure underneath.
Another New Wave throwback “Back in Your Head” has been getting a lot of press, and it’s certainly catchy, but it’s really nothing compared to the two tracks that follow it.
“Hop a Plane” is as perfect a slice of breakneck, guitar-driven pop you’ll ever hear. It’s a testament to the impossibility of love, the confusion, the madness – a plea for an end to the pain of uncertainty. She is insistent, firm, but underneath it you can just sense that she is on the verge of completely losing it. “Soil, Soil” provides the perfect counterpoint. A short (under 90 seconds) acoustic missive: simple, forthright, genuine, terrified. Here she waits silently, alone, desperately grasping for that one thing that will restore stability, wide-eyed and terrified. It’s a magical combination. Each feels more complete back-t0-back with the other.
Another highlight is “Nineteen” which is as close to a traditional pop song as they get (if they needed one track to send to Gray’s Anatomy, this would be the one), but which is made unique by those voices. I know a number of folks who think these sisters can’t sing, and while I agree they don’t have classically beautiful, dulcet tones I feel like this song exemplifies everything that makes their songs so compelling.
The final must-listen track is the penultimate “Dark Come Soon,” which contains one of the finest moments in the recent history of pop music when she exclaims “so what, I lied? I lied to me, too.” And, as brilliant as that section is, it’s almost outdone by the moment around 1:20 when the “you, too” bleeds into that little cascading riff. I’m really a sucker for that sort of thing, but few could even come close to the passion felt here.
I’ve avoided talking about the two more experimental tracks “Are You Ten Years Ago” and “Like O, Like H” because they are the two tracks I could live without. They add texture both musically and lyrically (the opening line of the latter, for example: “When I was 8 I was sure I was growing nerves / Like steel in my palm”), and play an important role as breaks in the flow of indie pop, but I can’t really imagine listening to either outside the confines of the album.
But as far as complaints go, that’s all I’ve got. This album should be embraced in equal parts by pop-loving teenagers and jaded indie-snobs. It’s a New Wave masterpiece, and far more complicated than most critics will give them credit for. It’s charming beyond belief, sensitive, swaggering, anxious, and compassionate – most of them simultaneously. It is the sound of coming to terms with a world that may never make sense and which is always on the verge of slipping away. It’s also simply an album about love, all the good and all the bad. And it is, without a doubt, one of the finest records of the year.