|
BIO
Not
long ago, a group of genuinely backwoods dudes
from the country moved to Seattle and began
playing shows that burned with primal intensity
and soared with pop sensibility. They called
themselves Feral Children—a wholly appropriate
name for a bunch of wild boys from rural Maple
Valley, WA—and were ready to stake their claim in
Seattle’s celebrated music scene. And when they
arrived, they adamantly let it be known they would
not be playing any of the following: “fucking
California pop”; “classic rock covers”; or “shitty
indie pop.”
Instead, Feral Children would be making
their music—music from the Pacific
Northwest. When they released their 2007 debut LP,
Second to the Last Frontier, bassist Jim
Cotton proudly stated: “It actually sounds like
the first Northwest record that I’ve heard in 10
years.”
And it
didn’t take long for them to catch the ear of KEXP
FM and the local press, who jumped all over this
debut with rare and unanimous praise: "will
undoubtedly be heralded as one of 2007's best"
(The Stranger), "the future is now for the Feral
Children" (John Richards, KEXP), and even
"Perfect, absolutely perfect" (Seattle Sound
Magazine).
In a
city known for “hey-no-worries” politeness, there
are countless interviews in which local indie
rockers come off like glad-handing chimps toward
their peers, often hiding their real opinions
under a veil of niceness. The boys in Feral
Children, however, have been ready to separate
themselves from the pack and to claw their way to
the top if need be, and they don’t seem to care
who gets scarred along the way;
"Yeah, we live in Seattle, but only because we
have to." In fact, they would prefer the
soggier and stranger outskirts of town.
Luckily, they haven’t had to claw too hard to get
attention; they’ve perked the ears of many on the
strength of their music and the visceral ferocity
of their live shows. And if Brand New Blood
is any inkling, they’re set to garner even more
acclaim, well beyond the hemline of the Cascade
Mountain range they call home.
Like
their last album,
Brand New Blood contains music that evokes
Feral Children’s home territory—sprawling, chilly,
vast, strange, and, at times, violently stormy.
Comparisons have been made to another great
Northwest concern, Modest Mouse, and that
comparison is not without merit. But after
listening to Brand New Blood, it’s obvious
Feral Children share more in common with Modest
Mouse philosophically than musically. The fact
that they are from Maple Valley, WA, and not the
big shitty of Seattle, has cemented their outsider
status and shapes every lick of music they play.
They also share that band’s mournfulness for
nature—as natives of the Washington hills, these
Feral Kiddies have watched Mother Earth raped time
and again by greedy developers. They don't approve
of excessive wealth and would likely have no idea
what to do with the wads of cash this album stands
to earn them. To some, their perspective may be
askew—but they are proud of it and don’t feel like
conforming to anyone’s standards. Why should they?
They’re from the real Washington State, so
fuck you.
Take a
listen to the album’s centerpiece, the colossal
“Conveyer”, in which the band’s wonderfully wonky
perspective of society is on full display. “This
world is like a video game controlled by lonely
boys with attention deficit disorder,” sings Jeff
Keenan in a huffy manner that suggests total
exasperation with everyday life. The song
eventually erupts into full-throttle Arcade
Fire-like pounding with Keenan frothing and
barking the lyrics: “The milk calls the coffee
black/ and Mother Nature’s getting so fat!”
Scott
Colburn produced this album, and his ability to
push a band into the stratosphere is all over
Brand New Blood. This sucker is all about
atmosphere; specifically, the Pacific Northwest
woods featured in Twin Peaks or Twilight.
In fact, the band doesn’t sound like they are
playing in a studio at all. The cold blankets of
synthesizer (“Kid Origami”), the tooth-clattering
percussion that sounds like the breaking of bones
(“Castrato”), the volatile guitars (“Enchanted
Parkway”)—this album feels as if it were recorded
along the banks of the Green River Gorge at 3 a.m.
in the middle of January.
The
legion of hyphen-wielding indie rock critics will
likely be compelled to draw parallels between
Brand New Blood to Lonesome Crowded West.
But that would be a lazy comparison based on
little more than geography. A deeper listen will
reveal that while there are philosophical
similarities, Feral Children are on to a whole
other trip musically, one that feeds off of
isolation and loneliness, the ghosts of their
working-class pasts and the awkwardness of trying
to fit in to Seattle’s hyper self-aware music
scene. Desolate as it may sound, though, it’s
obvious they are happy to have each other for
company. Fucked up individuals they may be, but
they seem to understand each other and speak
fluently through their music. Feral Children are
proud to stand together as a pack: defiant,
dysfunctional, and outsiders to the core. |
