Wolf Parade: Expo 86

Seemingly, being in Wolf Parade is a simple process. Pick a riff, pick a strange name (Yulia, Anastasia, etc.), pick a catch phrase, repeat all ad naseum.  Predictability is all the rage.  While I like aspects of their newest effort, I find that most of the time I am tuned out, waiting for the next song, eager to be able to move to another album.  It was quite the same way I felt about the newest Black Keys record.  While rock bands struggle to find new ways to execute the same tired material, certain bands have just decided to embrace their inner-70s/80s and make good use of some old tricks.

I’m not totally against Wolf Parade on this.  I actually like the path they’ve chosen.  I understand their decisions on this album, for the most part.  Expo 86 feels like a mixtape of Wolf Parade’s favorite bands– a list of influences combined with their off-kilter lyrics.  Then, after all the dot-connecting dust settles, the listener is left with a quandary. Do we like what Wolf Parade likes? Are we that into their panicky vocals, their friskiness, their overly-simple keyboard warbles?  Depends on the person.  I’d like to explain why I am not happy with the album, but it’s difficult.  Difficult because I like what they like, I want to like what they do.  The manic energy, the overall aesthetic– Expo 86 is an album I am inclined to love.  Yet, for all it’s charm and sing-along rollicking, I don’t love it.

While Wolf Parade are lauded, among other things, for that surplus of personality, that is precisely what is lacking in Expo 86.  I mention earlier the referenece points of other albums– it’s as if their love of the past has taken over their love of themselves.  Their personalities are melding with the likes of their influences.  When I hear other bands with this problem (style over function), I usually dismiss the band.  Most times, the band’s personality and flair are not enough to overcome their influences.  Wolf Parade can overcome, as evidenced in previous efforts, but I don’t believe they have in this case.

Still, the groundwork is there.  WP are still a fun, if not as entertaining, band. “Pobody’s Nerfect,” despite the horrible name and needless guitar solo, is a real rocker. “Palm Road” is a repetitive jam, but catchy as all hell.  I like “Little Golden Age.” But it’s the gusto of selling lyrics, in this case “Yulia”: “The radio sings/ a patriot song/ the devil that you know/ Yulia.”  It’s the solos and run-ragged rhythms I’ve heard done better by worse bands.  It’s the lack of originality that leaves more to be desired.  It’s the oddball preacher routine that starts “Cloud Shadow on the Mountain,” the album’s opener.  Call and response between the singer and guitar, references to dreams and overloaded imagery (”I was a dreamcatcher hanging in the window of a minivan parked along the water’s edge/ I’d say that I was all alone.” “Everybody gotta be reborn/but you’ll never be born as a scorpion.”) combine to lead me down a stylistically challenging path, only to find out I’m only being led to the same oasis of rock-and-roll I’ve visited hundreds of times before. The well is dry there, Wolf Parade, but thanks for trying.