There are times, when hearing an album or band, you feel truly alone. I’ve had so many of these times with Mercury Program, I can hardly imagine them playing to a crowd (even though I have seen them do so more than once). What makes these guys so separatist? What divides the seas of humanity when the bassline hits? Why is a jazz-influenced instrumental band so paramount to my insular personality? I set to find out with their newest release– one that came after a long absence– Chez Viking.
As the opening keyboard riffs sprinkled over me, there was no realization. Not immediately. By the time the song settled into its groove, I realized that Mercury Program are unlike any other band on the planet. The smoothness of opening track “Chez Viking” nailed their biggest strength: transitions. From the poppy and full intro to the settled-in vibe of “Arrived/Departed,” the transition from poppy and angular to bass-heavy jazz quartet is damn-near perfect.
Hearing this is no surprise. The band had a seamless quality throughout their career. There is something different in “Chez Viking,” however. They have become more accomplished playing music apart than they ever could have staying together for the past few years. Chez Viking has dynamic changes that never existed before. They are still built on the repetition of the guitar, the meandering-yet-insanely-tight basslines and the light sprinklings of drum fills and rhodes/vibes. Listening to Mercury Program’s new album is like rereading a classic– one you liked in college, but devour now.
As the album continues, the bass pulsates and drives. The guitar, especially in “Backseat Blackout” curls in and out of songs, and Chez Viking ebbs and flows like any good record should. Then, “Katos” remembers me to my task. The band hits a stride. There is a dynamic of quiet-loud without the unnecessary explosions of other instrumental rock bands. There is an interplay in the rhythm section that is unrivaled. They play the simplest song to the maximum ability it can be played.
Therein lies the mastery of this band. They have their craft so solidly penned, that they could play the same song night after night and it would rarely sound the same. We are not lonely when we listen to the Mercury Program, we are just choosing to ignore the rest of the world. We choose to shut out the honking cars, the creepy silence of the morning commute, the attention-grabbing hordes in the parks, the television blaring and even our friends telling the same stories again and again. It’s because their stories aren’t as good two times as any one of these seven songs is 100 times. No one can listen to this album without concentrating on how good it really is. Even through sleep (trust me on this one), the foot will tap and the brain will continue to slink alongside the bass as if all along.
By the time “Stand and Sing” ends the all-too-short Chez Viking, I’ve learned more than enough to know that there’s no analyzing perfection. I just let the instruments coagulate. When they do, the song is over before I noticed how good it really was, so I play it again– all the while ignoring my surroundings and getting lost in my own head. It’s a special talent that few bands have; continually surprising and beckoning a listener without words, and Mercury Program has it in spades.