Vampire Weekend - Contra

If you were to ask me around the time that everyone was blowing themselves over the debut Vampire Weekend album what I thought about them, I would have eagerly chastised the notion of a few spoiled Ivy League who cited Graceland as a primary influence. Sure, the inspiration was novel for its time, but Graceland? Christ, I was in college around the time that Simon released that plagiarized “masterpiece” and I can cite no peers who offered, “Let me throw on that new Paul Simon album” during any social setting. You wanna know why? Because we were tired of hearing our Dads remind us that Chevy Chase is “hilarious” in the music video for “Call Me All.”

The notion that college kids are now listening to Graceland now is a matter of concern, but the idea that they’re actively picking up world music instruments and creating music from them is even more troubling.

Fast forward to Vampire Weekend’s sophomore effort-Contra-which gets demerits right out of the gate for such an incredibly dumb album title given the band’s ilk-and I’m ready to consider that those original supporters may have seen something in this band that I carelessly overlooked.

You see, for one thing Contra is more Talking Heads’ world beat now instead of Paul Simon, which means that Vampire Weekend has progressed into a band that’s a bit more aloof than the debut. There are hints that much of the bullshit Soweto connotations are gone, replaced by a weird Byrne/Eno slant where world beat polyrhythms are matched with geeky, grad student prose.

Contra also takes some of the explorations of Rostam Batmanglij’s Discovery side-project a step further; the auto-tuned “California English” works here because its housed in kinetic analog drums, clean guitars, and then an unexpected string quartet about 90 seconds in.

It gets better with repeated listens; the complexity of Vampire Weekend’s arrangements becomes apparent and it’s clear that they’ve obsessed over every measure. Vocalist Ezra Koenig sounds downright versatile as he alternates between electronic pop to reggaeton to dancehall to the awful bits of Top 40 radio that stuck with him from the 90’s.

Contra reminds us that not everyone coming of age in that era was enamored with grunge and not everyone had the best record collection either. Vampire Weekend has managed to grow from their past indiscretions, which is really all we should be asking from any band. Contra shows Vampire Weekend growing just enough that it turned a cynical critic into a late game supporter.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

Cover Girl

By now you’ve read all about Ann Kirsten Kennis suing Vampire Weekend (and others) about the unauthorized use of a nearly three decade old Polaroid of her sporting a preppy polo shirt and a beautiful look that makes the heart of any old fart like me beat uncontrollably. She’s the spitting image of somebody from anyone’s art class, speech class, band, drama, or French Club circa 1981-1987.

I swear to God, I made out with this chick on a church youth group sleepover.

The Fairfield Citizen has a well-researched story which is good enough to make someone like me with a knee-jerk reaction of “gold digger” suddenly put my foot in my mouth and admit “Poor girl (woman).”

First of all, she just went through chemo, so the endless parade of her younger self must put her in a constant reminder that she will never be able to revisit that fleeting beauty.



Secondly, that reminder came with a cash payment of-wait for it-one dollar. Now, Vampire Weekend ain’t the Rolling Stones and nobody is suggesting that Ann Kristen Kennis should have been paid enough to put her daughter through college, but you’d have to be retarded to sign the rights over to a photo with your image for one buck.

Never mind the whole document was signed a few years ago-decades after it was supposedly taken by photographer Tom Brody-and the model’s name was misspelled.

So yeah, dude sounds like a Creepy McCreepers and a dumb one at that. If he does end up losing the lawsuit, Kennis should be compensated nicely.

But Vampire Weekend? I’m not getting how the band is implicit in all of this. You grab a few photographers, look through their portfolios and pick a shot that best represents your vision. Is there another step that the band is responsible for?

I’m also wondering if I need to buy a physical copy of the album. Will it end up like many rock albums in history that met their demise from offensiveness (Yesterday and Today), improper licensing (Some Girls), or just plain stupidity (Virgin Killers)? Should I save a sealed copy for collection sake and wait for the value to rise if/when a judge decides to have the remaining copies removed from retail outlets.

Surely we would have seen some evidence of the records already in stores being removed as a result of a legal order or some talk of plans to change the artwork for future pressings, so maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to have an actual, physical copy of that fetching memory of a time long since past.

Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend

This record should appeal to me: I dig all of the blatant influences, am a fan of that late 70’s/early 80’s honky chateau, and seem to fall head over heels with bands that get a shitload of praise/hype/press before they self-destruct or implode.

I was there for Frankie Goes To Hollywood, The Strokes, The Knack, and a bunch of other bands that were later raped on the front pages of yer hipster zines and distanced by Rolling Stone after Jann proclaimed them the new Dylan or some other bullshit tag.

But I cannot get my head around Vampire Weekend.
There’s something fairly novel going on with their debut, it is a relatively unique disc that is deserved of some attention, but the second coming of the Talking Heads it ain't.

I think my problem centers around one line, “Fuck the girls from Wellesley,” hinting at a privilege that few of us could imagine and portending a direction of extreme importance as influential as an Icicle Works record. This is rock music for the Ivy League that’s about as far away from rock as one could get because, from the sounds of it, rock music is beneath the members of Vampire Weekend.

At least with the Heads you got the impression that the pale faced kids wanted to play guitar, but couldn’t get it right because their practice amps wouldn’t go loud enough.

Photo by Tim Soter

I bring up this band because 1.) Vampire Weekend is indebted to them and 2.) they haven’t bothered to put the kibosh on such nomenclatures like “upper west side Soweto.” The closest that these guys have gotten to South Africa is the gold that’s housed in their family’s jewelry boxes.

My issue isn’t with their race, but with the sneaking suspicion that the world music they cherry pick really moves them, because there's barely a hint of passion with their own results.

Vampire Weekend is a streamlined and pleasant record album from a bunch of Northeastern dudes that placate Afropop to the point where their friends…more importantly, the chicks at Wellesley…conveniently overlook any of the political, economic, or historical aspects of the genres it’s lifting.

At least the Heads sounded respectful. Vampire Weekend sounds like the music that “inspires” them is already beneath them.