White Rabbits, It’s Frightening
Featured Album
Britt Daniel produces an album full of the same propulsive, clean energy that powers Spoon
If one generalization can be made about indie-rock bands, it's that most of them tend to overvalue guitars and under-utilize drums. Neither holds true for this energetic sextet from the college town of Columbia, Missouri; one that now calls Brooklyn home. They've got two drummers, a keyboardist and three guitarists who sometimes double on drums and keys as well. Their second album opens with a self-descriptive "Percussion Gun," which borrows the same aggressive Burundi tribal rhythm popularized by New Wave icons Bow Wow Wow. In "Rudie Fails," pianos pound the power chords that ordinary bands would relegate to guitars. Although the band has 12 hands at its disposal, there's plenty of sonic space left between these unusually democratic Rabbits. The vocals can clearly be heard.
Perhaps not coincidentally, these traits are also valued by It's Frightening's producer: Britt Daniel of Spoon. And although it's tempting to hear this album through Daniel's aural prism, White Rabbits manage to blur most outside influences with their own personality. As befitting a band of transplants that's spent plenty of time on the road, the lyrics here dwell on themes of transience, and the propulsive rhythms play them out like actors with a script. There's plenty of running — not just from physical danger, but also from emotional commitment: "Awww, darlin 'I love you now/But this just might be a feeling that just comes and goes" is a key sentiment from "Right Where They Left" that's echoed in "The Salesman (Tramp Life)," "The Lady Vanishes," and, finally, "Leave It At the Door," an eerie piano-led ballad. All drums and guitars have disappeared, and the background vocals are ghostly, overdubbed to the point of disembodiment. "Let's get outta here," keyboardist Stephen Patterson slurs. And then he does exactly that.
