Kepler
Missionless Days
[Troubleman Unlimited; 2002]
Rating: 7.8
Some emotions are easy to put your finger on. That girl at work you've had
your eye on agrees to get a beer with you, you're happy. That same girl,
after seeing you regularly for a few months, decides she's not attracted to
you and tells you so, you're sad. You find out this girl, the one you saw
for a while there, was lying to you and actually found someone new but
didn't have the guts to tell you, you're angry. You wake up the morning
after hearing this terrible news in a dried pool of your own vomit, with a
CD by hair farmers Junkyard blaring on repeat, you feel disgust, wondering
how in the hell Brian Baker used to be in Minor Threat. We've all been there.
Then there are the moments where a few different feelings tug at you
simultaneously, and you feel uncertain and confused. This discordant state
is at the heart of these Kepler songs. Ottawa's slowcore maestros, who
opened for Godspeed You Black Emperor! on a European tour earlier this year,
find that kernel of doubt in the happy moment and the edge of comfort in
sadness, and blow the swirling mess up to billboard size. These songs are
brimming with such internal conflict.
"Let Us Rest as Mutes" has the kind of songwriting focus I'm talking about.
It's a weary plea for sleep addressed to the girl at the narrator's side,
begging her not to pay attention to his bitchy quips: "Darling, I implore you
to ignore my foolish taunts," he sings. "The words I speak are nothing but
decoration for my wrongs." Anyone who's ever launched into a stupid fight at
1:00am can relate to the closing line, "Tonight I'm begging, baby, let us
rest as fucking mutes for one last time." The very spare and Low-like "A
Workhorse," is another lament for rest, with nuggets of surreal detail like,
"Walking up my street, I catch the 22-hour nightspot on siesta: waitresses
asleep on tables and floors."
On Missionless Days, Kepler sounds paradoxically both more careful and
more confident. The melodies and arrangements are meticulously constructed,
with instrumental touches like piano and organ now fully integrated into the
two-guitar/bass/drum sound-- yet they never sound fussy, and the songs
seem to fall in place naturally. Kepler's secret weapon is John Higney, who
contributes gorgeous lap steel to a handful of tracks, lending an airy, high
lonesome sound to Missionless Days. The record breathes. Esteemed
Pitchfork editor Ryan Schreiber concluded his review of Kepler's last effort
on Troubleman Unlimited Fuck Fight Fail by saying, "...the boys have
got promise, and their next album will likely shock this one into submission."
He was on the money.
-Mark Richardson, August 29th, 2002