The New Pornographers-Twin Cinema

A.C. Newman’s “The Slow Wonder” was one of the Baker’s Dozen from last year and it looks like he’ll make it again this year with his Candian Indie supergroup The New Pornographers’ third effort “Twin Cinema.” In all honesty, the biggest complaint about the release is how nearly perfect the execution is. And when it comes down to rock & roll, one’s got to consider how important imperfection is.
Don’t misunderstand the words “rock” in relation to “Twin Cinema.” It rocks hard in some rooms, but not enough for the neighbors to complain.
I started with A.C. Newman because this is, essentially, an A.C. Newman album. And if you loved “The Slow Wonder” like I did, you’re gonna love “Twin Cinema.”
Newman writes ten of the thirteen tracks with Destroyer’s Dan Bejar taking up the remaining three. They’re a welcomed relief at times, coming on like a 60’s relic on his cut “Broken Beads,” while the track “Jackie, Dressed In Cobras” is just as winding as the title suggests. Bejar’s tracks are also the only ones that somewhat feel like an actual band unit. The rest feel a little too perfect, cut and paste jobs. The rest, all written, by A.C. Newman.
What’s frustrating is how you just know that his compositions are a little too contrived. But dude, they are so fucking good.

Cheerful, poppy, contagious; there’s not a dud on this thing and it provides you with satisfying repeated listens. “Twin Cinema” occupied the cd player in the 4Runner for two solid weeks, in between stabs at N.P.R.’s “All Things Considered.” Then the reality of how fucking crazy this country has gotten in to sets in, and I need my candy…
Kurt Dahle saves the whole thing from going diabetic; his spastic fills find the closest thing to soul in the entire set. Then again, it’s hard to find a reason to get soulful over lyrics like “two sips from the cup of human kindness/and I’m shit faced/ just laid to waste.” No matter: by the time the next line hits “you had to send the wrecking crew after me,” you’re singing with them like it’s a Sunday hymn. Plastic soul, man.
Throw in Neko Case’s admirable vocals abilities and you’re scratching your head trying to figure out how she can muster up such magic on lyrics so devoid of emotion. They even manage to work up a church choir ending during “Streets Of Fire” and they come very close to sounding like a few souls actually were saved. It really doesn’t matter in the end, each individual member is just great enough for you to completely overlook such minor complaints. They’re like the “talented and gifted” kids, known as T.A.G. in my old school district, who manage to fuck up the curve for the rest of us. What the New Pornographers managed to do during a brief window of opportunity in which everyone’s schedules finally were freed up to do a little recording, everyone else would need years to accomplish something like this.
Without question, one of the best albums you can find this year.