Aderbat – We Belong To The Sea

The promotional material that accompanies Aderbat’s sophomore long player, We Belong To The Sea, makes promises of an “engrossing, if occasionally disturbing listen.” There is no doubt that the Brooklyn-by-way-of-Pennsylvania indie pop quintet, creators of 2004’s Rabbits & Rocks, had the power to induce the occasional lump in the throat or shivers up the spine with their shoegazey flourishes and lyrical narratives of longing and nostalgia. Yet, I wasn’t exactly anticipating a “rattle you to your core” sort of experience. But principal singer/songwriter Matt Taylor, so strongly influenced by Radiohead, Wilco, Philip Glass, and Van Morrison’s 1968 masterpiece Astral Weeks, deftly weaves the finest qualities of each artist into his own album of hypnotic soul searching. With every repeated listen, this 11-track ode to experiential living does indeed become more jarring.

From the first transparent C major chord in “Don’t Lock Me Up,” it’s clear that Taylor is just as concerned with the gravity of his instrumentation as he is his words. Featuring multi-tracked vocals and lonesome alternations of blocked chords and arpeggiations in the piano, there is a sense of weight and depth here that belies the transparency implied by the ambient texture. A fine example of the unconventional song structure employed throughout the album, it is not until the 2:20 mark that the band, comprised of Taylor, along with mates Chris Covatta (guitar), Brad Kunkle (bass), Todd Schied (drums), and Craig Hendrix (keyboards, percussion), finally settles into a groove, having punctuated the song’s introduction with unexpected volume swells and eerie silences.

At the center of the album we find “Mastodon,” where the cunning use of a solitary major chord misplaced in the lowest register of the guitar gives way to an understated sense of paranoia and isolation. The band’s self described attention to sonic detail comes through here, and I haven’t heard such a fine example of it since the Beatles turned the E major chord at the end of “A Day In The Life” into one of the most disturbing moments in rock history. Meanwhile, “Busted Cars” provides a more literal interpretation of Aderbat’s obsession with space, as Taylor takes on the character of one who has had his personal bubble shattered by some higher authority.

Elsewhere on the album, tracks like “Pilgrim” and “Sick Delight” resonate with their ethereal production and group cohesiveness. There are no technical displays of virtuosity to be found, and Aderbat are all the better for it. They sidestep the ego mania so typical of rock bands and instead give the listener a batch songs that play to group strengths rather than individual contributions.

Matt Taylor’s vocal timbre, so restrained and at times on the verge of collapse, seems to alternate between the quiver of Conor Oberst and the world weary sigh of Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy. Each distinctive in their own right, they both work well on tunes like “Make You Run,” where we find the protagonist becoming increasingly anxious about his own space as he sings, “Well I barely had the room, but I let you in.” In a moment of vulnerability, the chorus is his admission (done in a plaintive falsetto), that he secretly wants to make this potential lover run.

Though the band makes some tasteful use of string and horn arrangements (the effects-treated cello on “Sick Delight” is gorgeous), it would be intriguing to see how much further Aderbat could expand their textural experimentations with the addition of more instruments. Certainly, what has been done here proves that any further songwriting challenges would be met by very capable hands.

Like the best nighttime driving music, We Belong To The Sea explores themes and textures that are on a grandiose scale, whether giving nod to the physical vastness implied in the album’s title or through a sonic realization heavy with delay and reverb. Proving good on that old cliché about the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, Aderbat have crafted a gem with We Belong To The Sea that shies away from rock and roll indulgences and instead goes right for the jugular with an enigmatic display of subtlety. Cue the goosebumps.