Earlier this week, GSL writer Zack Sniderman, wrote a review on Vampire Weekend’s highly anticipated upcoming album Contra (XL). Though everyone here has different opinions on what makes a great album, we’ve decided to put writers Zack and Royce Johnson head to head to share their different views on the record.  Watch them duke it out (or not, you’ll have to read both to see) in the name of Vampire Weekend. Check out Zack’s article HERE and read Royce’s below.

Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut was like a shot of adrenaline when it arrived two years ago. Featuring killer hooks on every track, and production that threw back to a 20 year old precursor (Paul Simon’s Graceland, in case you missed that memo), it was like the 2008 version of Weezer’s own self-titled debut: an old-as-new kind of rock from a fresh-faced band, paying homage to left-field inspirations but confident in their own voice. It’s only natural then that Contra, the band’s sophomore release, feels like their Pinkerton: its commercial prospects may be questionable, but it’s a home run by creative standards, pulling their trademark sound into deep water while reveling in some healthy introspection.

What Contra admittedly lacks is the instant listenability of their freshman release. Despite the gonzo drag race of “Cousins”, which plays like the 3D sequel to “A-Punk”, both sonically and thematically, this isn’t exactly a party album. On the contrary, once singer Ezra Koenig begins to spill his guts on the reflective opener “Horchata”, it’s safe to assume this whole thing’s gonna revolve around the girl(s) that broke his heart, and pushed him to a drunken beach retreat. And suddenly we’ve flashed back to the start on “White Sky”, with our protagonist and the girl that’s caught his eye making mischief at the MoMa. And so it goes on Contra’s first half, recounting loves won and lost, and all the geo-political analogy that entails. But just as it risks veering into concept album territory, it shifts course with the amphitheater-ready “Giving Up the Gun”, a slicker-produced version of Koenig and Andrew Kalaidjian’s “Giving Up Da Gun” (released under their L’Homme Run banner five years ago). By inclusion alone, it continues Contra’s 8-bit theme of nostalgia, but now spotlights it in a whole new way (in fact, if I hadn’t banned the word “meta” from my writing, it’d be getting a workout right now).

And then comes “Diplomat’s Son”, which promptly unravels every thread the album’s been stringing up to this point. Garnished with a sample from M.I.A.’s “Hussel”, the song bounces between dancehall and something else damn-near undefinable, and other than the title’s Joe Strummer reference, could be about 50 different things. It’s the most ambitious and beguiling track the band’s crafted yet, and it’s one hell of a ride. Once the heat wave’s passed, and Koenig again sounds alone with his thoughts, he ends the whole affair with the catharsis of “I Think Ur A Contra”. When you read the song’s title, it feels like a drunken text message referencing an equally drunken inside joke, and when you say it quickly—-and maybe with a healthy stutter towards the end—it sounds like the nastiest kiss-off a guy could generally give to his ex. Whether any of this is intentional, or it’s just a grand coincidence, the song itself covers both these bases, as well as the epiphany that life goes on. So despite the final track’s somber tone, Contra ends with just enough light to earn a happy ending.

As on the band’s debut, Rostam Batmanglij’s production is worth noting, but this time for different reasons. Through his Discovery project (with Ra Ra Riot’s Wes Miles), he’s clearly acquired a new bag of tricks, but the ironic way he utilizes them is through occasional restraint. On first listen, Contra risks sounding almost muted. It’s not til repeat listens that the album turns from black and white into color, and all the little details on songs like “Run” and “Taxi Cab” make their presence known. It’s a brilliant trick, and a tough one for a band on only its second release to pull off, but they do it with flair. The album sounds richer with every spin, and even Koenig’s dense wordplay seems to change shape. The latter is due to the Batmanglij’s canniest choice: the crazy synths, wailing guitars and countless other elements, when finally heard, create a three ring circus, but only to give proper context for Koenig’s vocal acrobatics. And they’re the main attraction.

I chose Pinkerton as the sophomore album to liken Contra to, obviously not in the hope that the band’s third effort becomes their Green Album, and so on (really, let’s not go down that road), but to express my belief that this one’s gonna polarize a lot of people, most of whom will probably end up liking it a lot more in five years, for whatever reason. In my book, it’s a startlingly mature work for a band many wrote off as one-trick ponies, but one that doesn’t find them abandoning what makes them unique. They’ve managed to crack open the same sound, and the same wit that brought them to the dance, exposing more layers than they ever hinted at with their debut. In many ways, Contra is the perfect companion piece to Vampire Weekend: it’s a funhouse mirror to the first album, that finds the band exploring new territories, but more importantly, allows us to explore them in a new light. Detractors of the first album won’t be converted by anything here, but that’s probably fine with Vampire Weekend. They don’t apologize for where they come from, and certainly don’t apologize for where they’re going. If that’s what you’re looking for, not to worry: there’s no shortage of skinny-jeaned Upper Eastsiders (still) migrating to Brooklyn and standing too far from the microphone. Here is a band comfortable in its own skin, and after Contra, appears here to stay. We’re lucky to have them.

Filed Under:
Uncategorized