In his review of Coldplay's new live album LeftRightLeftRightLeft, Pitchfork's Stephen Deusner philosophizes, somewhat aptly, that "Coldplay are the biggest band in the world because they believe themselves to be." Had I not dropped my minor in philosophy a mere two months into my first year of university (I don't need to pay for courses that cause me to overthink, I do that during my nightly bouts with sleeping disorder anxiety), I might dissect Deusner's assertion and prove it wrong using the Socratic Method (which would be done so through a dialectic email debate). To begin with, Coldplay is not THE biggest band in the world, there are a few others who could try to claim that title (U2, Radiohead.... album sales do not necessarily reflect popularity nor do they reflect total band revenue). Furthermore, the actual sentence itself can be looked at in two ways:
- Coldplay believes themselves to be the biggest band in the world and as a result, the world has followed suit and believes this too, thus making it a reality.
- Coldplay believes themselves to be the biggest band in the world and thus, to themselves they are, but only in their own reality.
Deusner's philosophical statement, whether correct or not, reminded me of a claim I recently made to my brother about Manchester Orchestra's vocalist and primary songwriter Andy Hull. After listening to their newest offering, Mean Everything to Nothing, several times I find that Hull believes himself to be one of the greatest songwriters of his time. How else could one justify belting out some of the most overwritten, pseudo-philosophical lyrics in recent musical history?
Opening track "The Only One" is a quick, musically upbeat way to begin the album. In fact, it is even a little on the "cute" side, especially for Manchester Orchestra. Lyrically, it is a relatively unspecific way of introducing the main theme of the album: questioning one's faith (especially that of a religious Christian background). No, they are not a "Christian" band so to speak, but Hull often refers to his faith and his upbringing as he does on the first track, "I am the only son of a pastor." Despite the vague reference to his faith and his struggle to reconcile his actions with it, where the song ultimately loses me is during the bridge. It is here where Hull begins to over-philosophize and concocts a poorly phrased existential dialogue that continues throughout the album: "I bet you did what you did when you did it / To do it again by the time you were done with it."
The dialogue continues during the chorus of second track "Shake it out," as Hull states "I'm done being done with the funerals, at least for now / Are you tired of being alone?" The over-philosophizing is not as bad in this case, but I still find it irritating––especially for what would otherwise be a decent song, a song that I think really begins to musically set the tone for the album. Hull begins to let his voice get away from him, as his emotive vocals propel towards a snarling near-scream before and after the bridge.
Once again, on the unfortunately titled "Tony The Tiger," Hull's existential ramblings sound more like those of a derelict at Dundas Square shouting something about the end of the world and Jesus, "I know you think you know / But you probably don't know." Seriously? Come on. Use your words like a big boy. The same goes for the bridge of "In My Teeth," which finds Hull questioning so succinctly, "What happens when I don't know what happens?" This particular song also suffers from a weak sing-song chorus that overshadows the dark tones set up by the verse.
Of course, all these lyrics certainly are a lot worse when read autonomously from the music. I fully realize that not all music enthusiasts have such high expectations of lyricists and are content with ignoring blatantly inconsistent lyrics that tread the line between being poetically and emotionally poignant and intellectually immature and can simply enjoy an album for its music. Mean Everything to Nothing is a musically solid album, with enough simultaneous sensitivity and testosterone to please most listeners.
There are many things about the album I find positive. Lead single "I've Got Friends" is an all-around good pop-rocker. It is wonderfully layered with dual vocals, synthesizer flourishes, and a full-on head-nodding chorus. All this crescendos during an intense second verse, as Hull's voice reaches that brooding snarl and belts his lyrics over a slightly subdued background scream. Also, the drum and vocals chant that brings the song back from the bridge is a fantastic touch. "Pride" is a fantastic slow-building grunge number that employs just the right amount of Southern twang. The lead guitar line purports a dirty, spit-when-you-talk, foot stomping Southern mentality that blends well with Hull's increasingly intense vocals in each successive verse. Title track "Everything to Nothing" is ultimately just a beautiful song. Lyrically it is plainly stated, not overwritten, nor overly contemplative. When the vocal harmony begins halfway through each verse, the raw emotion of the song is fully realized and allows it to come across as the album's most earnest.
If Andy Hull ever enrolled in a philosophy course, it appears as though he dropped it even quicker than I dropped mine. Had he stuck with it a little longer, perhaps his existential contemplation would be a bit more articulate and less repetitive. I realize that he is attached to the album title's philosophical conundrum, but it does not need to be emphasized so much. Not only does he use the phrase on the title track several times, but it also pops up in the chorus of "My Friend Marcus." It would be a far more potent phrase if it was not repeated so many times. However, as long as Hull believes it to be powerful, it will mean everything to him.
