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Unfortunately for some the past can crowd the present, and with a decade of semi seminal releases gracing their back catalogue The Walkmen are a band whose very existence can incite an army of bedroom dwelling know-it-alls to spout selectively memorised, Google aided reference points until the mildly curious are bored to exclusion.
Despite a compelling talent it is perhaps this fiercely niche support that in part fuels an exclusivity and lack of commercial recognition, but their latest offering could be a turning point as by tastemaker chance 'Lisbon' offers an in vogue pop skewed proposition that doesn't necessitate selling out.
Eleven tracks of regret, heartache and sorrow isn't much of a long-playing invitation to get excited about but with Hamilton Leithauser at the helm and misfortune disguised through a road trip of smiles and positivity anything is possible.
From the garage riffs of 'Angela Surf City', to the American West pitch and roll of 'Blue As Your Blood' and the mariachi pride of 'Stranded', their melancholy might be of the mundane but fronted by 'Juveniles' it's certainly not of the particular and remaining upbeat while downcast is a fine art to be proud of.
A combination of vintage instrumentation alongside acoustic pickings, electric fuzz, shuffling bass, knock it out percussion and weather worn contradictory vocal combine to form an impressively frenetic collection of contemporary indie rock the substance of which is only equalled by the style.
By either design or chance, painstaking studio positioning, attention to detail and a desire to experiment ensure multiple unique sensory stamps. Tracks such as 'Victory', 'Woe Is Me' and 'Which I Shovel The Snow' weave webs of pleasurably tangled audio tactility in which the intimate is presented as a collection of personal roaming observations, allowances made, bum notes welcomed and an intense experience created that can only be fully appreciated through repeated listening.
Bedroom dwelling know-it-alls take note; in the age of the internet the ability to recite discographies verbatim isn't all that impressive if indeed it ever was, and 'Lisbon' should arguably be received as the crowning point of an already benchmarked past.
