ALBUMS OF THE YEAR 2011: #9 REAL ESTATE DAYS

Albums of the Year 2011: #9

Real Estate - Days

I have no grand, theoretical justifications for why I like Real Estate (well, that's not entirely true, but none that I'm going to waste space on here, anyway). Listening to them makes me happy, and if you can come up with a better reason to listen to music, then I'm all ears. Whenever I listened to Real Estate's self-titled debut (an act that was the subject of the very first post on this blog in its pre-blogspot days), it was for me a very real question whether or not they could top "Beach Comber." The first song on that album, it was so perfect, so fully realized, so clear in its aesthetic and components that it didn't seem possible the band could ever improve on it. There were other great songs on the album ("Suburban Dogs," "Suburban Beverage," and "Snow Days" being the best of the rest), but nothing quite succeeded in capturing both the breezy and melancholy sides of the band so well. Amazingly, they better it once on Days, and at least two other songs give "Beach Comber" a run for its money.

My point of reference for Real Estate is always early R.E.M., right around Reckoning, and Days does nothing to change that: "It's Real," a stunning two minutes of guitar pop that actually makes "whoa-oh" vocals feel light and fresh rather than tired and cliched, would slot nicely in between "Harborcoat" and "Little America." What's so wonderful about Days, though, is its intimacy and easy charm (especially on the ostensibly "epic" album closer "All the Same"). This isn't music that goes out of its way to impress you; the band has a light touch, confident enough to let the songs do what they will without fuss (it's no coincidence that the album leads off with a song called "Easy"). For music that so clearly fits in with the past half decade or so's revival of the 1980s, though, the songs on Days are surprisingly bittersweet in their nostalgia. Memories are what's left of the past here, and not necessarily good ones, filled with longing for innocence, for hope, for love--the tenderness of the music and singing has a tendency to mask just how brutal songs like "Green Aisles" and "Wonder Years" really are. The triumph of the album--of the band's career, really--and a serious contender for song of the year in my book is "Municipality," which takes everything that "Beach Comber" did so well and amplifies it to create the kind of gorgeous melancholy that will keep misunderstood teenagers in their bedrooms for days. Few songs have captured the pain of being far away from someone so simply and so effectively: "How can I feel free / when all I want to be / is by your side / in that municipality?" The small dramas of suburban life, then, but with a killer set of tunes.

REAL UPDATES ON THE WAY; FOR NOW: THIS

It feels like it's been forever since I've updated, but I think it's only been a week. Every time I've sat down to write something it's felt like there's been fifteen other things I should be working on (and usually there actually have been about twelve).

Anyway, some thoughts from my morning commute:

1. Real Estate's new album Days could not have come out at a better time. Smart marketing for it to appear just as the weather took a turn for the cooler (and it's pretty cold here today: there was frost this morning on my walk to the bus stop)--I would not want to listen to this album in the summer, but in the fall it sounds just right. In a lot of ways, Days seems like it could fit into the category Nitsuh Abebe describes in this article on "indie" as the new "adult contemporary:" it's fairly slick and well-crafted (that most damning of adjectives); I could play it for my parents and I doubt they'd find much fault in it; it vaguely sounds like a lot of other music that people would describe as "pleasant." There are certainly enough potential ways for Real Estate to seem dull: they really only trade in two or three emotions (nostalgia, yearning, resignation) and only deliver those emotions in about two styles (jangle-y and breezy). Hell, when they change key it's a pretty big deal. I can't help but love the band, though. They remind me of early R.E.M. (to pick a famous example--"It's Real" wouldn't sound out of place on Reckoning [in fact, I often pair it with "So. Central Rain" in my mind for some reason]) and The Postage Stamps (to use a not-so-famous [read: not famous at all] example; check out "The Ocean" and tell me it wouldn't fit right in). The high point on Days for me, and at this point it's a strong contender for the high point in their career, is "Municipality:" despite seeming so laidback and straightforward, the song captures a kind of vaguely haunted and slightly wistful vibe that I'm a sucker for. There really isn't the sense of mystery that made R.E.M.'s early stuff so fascinating, but there's a delightfully human aspect to Real Estate that no amount of increased studio polish can quite mask. I don't think Days is going to be my pick for album of the year (it wouldn't seem right somehow--it's just so unassuming), but until winter hits it's the perfect music for the weather.

2. "Ray of Light," a song I've long had a bizarre fascination with (I'm convinced that there's a way to use the video to introduce the concept of postmodernism to students), sounds (and looks) like "Big Time Sensuality" (either version) with the fun and the sensuality taken out. I know it's supposed to feel and sound sexy, and it does a great job at providing a reasonable facsimile of a sexy dance track, but it's because the song tells me it's supposed to feel and sound that way (as opposed to say, this, which to me does a great job of striving for the same thing as "Ray of Light" but also of being incredibly fun thanks to those neon synths in the chorus) that it ends being neither, really. It also helps that both Bjork and Karen O are not "good" dancers--the seeming transcendence that their dancing communicates at key moments seems much more genuine than Madonna's dancing throughout "Ray of Light." All that being said, it's a great song.

And another thought from later in the day:

3. Julie London's "Cry Me a River," which came on in the barbershop as I was getting my hair cut, isn't too far from something that could've been on Third. I wouldn't be shocked to hear it coming out of either "Small" or "Hunter," and even after "The Rip" it wouldn't be too much of a stretch. Actually, the more that I think about it, a cover of this song might result in something that fits nicely between Portishead and Third--I'd at least be more interested in it than "Chase the Tear."