Vampire Weekend - 'Vampire Weekend' (XL) Released 28/01/08

If David Byrne says "Well, looky here", whatyado? Vampire Weekend are a clever as white-boy quartet centred around Brooklyn, without a trace of goth or indie-noir, despite their name. This self-titled debut parades its' confidence with breezy, buoyant and frolicsome indie-Afro-funk-pop, and groovy indie guitar playing that could have hailed from Soweto or Kinshasa, whilst baroque chamber pieces crossed with post-punk arrangements make for party-time songs. Erudite airs and observations feature on songs of obscure punctuation on 'Oxford Comma', about which Ezra couldn't give a fuck; architecture with commodious living space on 'Mansard Roof'; colonial legacy in preppy attire on 'A-Punk', and Manhattan bus routes on 'M79'. 

 

"...I see a salty message written in the eaves..." sings guitarist / vocalist Ezra Koenig sounding like Sting in intonation amidst the garbage and concrete on 'Mansard Roof', as a parade two-step drum pounds to shimmering guitar and strings, and 'Oxford Comma' takes in soukous guitar rhythms to raise the funkiness like The Jam crossed with Manu Dibango as protests over punctuation and diction rile with disdain - "...I met the highest Lama/ his accent sounded fine to me...". Clearly this isn't the run-of-the-mill indie release. 'M79' holds centre-stage with a glorious piece of baroque chamber-pop from harpsichord and cello with a reggae skank as Ezra sings - "...I ride across the park/ back seat of the number 79...", with a bus pass to the global village, "...dress yourself in bleeding madras/ charm your way across the Khyber Pass...",

 

The musical lexicon expands its' chest with clever-clogs ironic references on the Graceland sound-alike 'Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa' with knowing glances - "...but this feels so unnatural/ Peter Gabriel too..." amidst the desire for a posh chick, whilst the post-punk of 'A-Punk' blends township riffs with woodwind "...aye aye aye...", and 'Campus' adopts a polite punky jig. Strings shimmer amidst guitar scales on 'Bryn', and old-time dance-hall boogie woogie meets Burundi drums meets mellifluous strings on 'I Stand Corrected', whilst 'Walcott' whoops it up with Kaiser Chief-esque skirmishes with rollicking drums, cello and indie-glee - "...the lobster's claw is sharp as knives/ evil feasts on human lives/ the holy Roman Empire roots for you...don't you wanna get outta Cape Cod/ outta Cape Cod tonight..." - one for the mosh pits. The 80's sounding faux Afro-pop of 'One (Blake's Got A New Face)' pushes the envelope far beyond the destination, however - "...oh your collegiate grief has left you/ down in sweatshirts/ absolute horror".

 

Like Talking Heads fresh out of art-school and empty lunch boxes, Vampire Weekend's message is in their energy and glee as well as their song, with lines shining like this from 'Oxford Comma' - "...check your passport it's no trick/ take the chapstick/ put it on your lips...". Just shy of 40 minutes worth of material, but what a romp it is. If only more bands were this smarty and bristle chin with inventiveness. Vampire Weekend are the brand of vanilla ice cream you can no longer do without.