Animal Joy—Shearwater

Comparing Shearwater to Talk Talk—as many critics do—is sort of like comparing a contemporary Irish novelist to James Joyce, or telling Abel Tesfaye (The Weeknd) that his Michael Jackson covers are better than the originals. It’s inappropriate to compare the trendsetter to the starry-eyed apprentice. In other words, if you’re coming to this review having never heard of Talk Talk, stop reading now and download Laughing Stock.

That said: Animal Joy, the seventh full-length release from former Okkervil River keyboardist Jonathan Meiburg and company, is a solid album. The first Shearwater LP since the completion of “Island Arch”—the critically acclaimed trilogy of Palo Santo, Rook and The Golden Archipelago released on Matador—Animal Joy is the work of much matured pop songwriters. Poised yet super-catchy opener “Animal Life” is the kind of song the band has always seemed capable of but repressed in favor of restraint. “You as You Were” unleashes Meiburg’s voice—heretofore subdued throughout the Shearwater discography—with unexpected success. The spacious and unhurried “Insolence” is the album’s most progressive moment, blending penetrating vocals with distant percussion and electrics. With these three songs, Shearwater casts off the quietude of previous albums, allowing for songs both radio- and Letterman-worthy.

Unfortunately, the rest of the album fails to live up to the standard set by the first few tracks. Most songs hit the same notes, reach the same catharsis. The second half of the album languishes—never feeling more than derivative of the soft-loud dynamic they flirted with on the first half. The flowery and churning finale, “Star of the Age,” more closely resembles a Boston hit than anything Mark Hollis ever wrote. Take away the first few songs, and Shearwater could be one of a handful of Sub Pop bands. Producer Danny Reisch doesn’t help matters. While openness and clarity are usually virtues, Animal Joy sounds more commercial than anything the band released on Matador.

Convincing us of this “animal joy,” Shearwater loses the conceptual framework that set the band apart. Most human joy evolves from grit and pathos, and these emotions never come to the table. The album needs fewer climaxes and more quiet time spent earning its catharsis.

—Dan Fishman