Vampire Weekend has rediscovered the key to heaven on its fifth full-length album.
“Fuck around and find out,” Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig gleefully exclaims on the opening track of the band’s latest album, “Only God Was Above Us.” Born from a Daily News headline, the 10-track album’s title references a 1988 plane crash where when recounting the striking visual of the aircraft’s roof ripping off, one survivor declared “only God was above us.” Fittingly, the genre-bending record is deeply interested in mining beauty from chaos, and for the most part succeeds. Both lyrically and sonically, Koenig seems to make a case for not just surrendering to entropy, but embracing it.
With the exit of band member and co-producer Rostam Batmanglij in 2016 and the lukewarm nature of the band’s most recent full-length album, 2019’s “Father of the Bride,” Vampire Weekend’s days of creating records worthy of instant classic distinction were assumed by many to be long gone, doomed to never recapture the jubilance of its self-titled debut or the witty poeticism of 2010’s “Contra.” While a daunting feat to successfully unlock the gold of its early years, indie rock’s favorite Ivy Leaguers sure come close with “Only God Was Above Us.”
On paper, much of the record’s dueling production elements seem destined to fail, yet somehow amid out-of-tune piano and grating metal, Koenig and co-producer Ariel Rechtshaid repurpose cacophonous noise into alternative elegance. Much like the rest of the record, opener “Ice Cream Piano” aims to catch the listener off guard, rapidly alternating between drastically different instrumentals in terms of pace and style. From violin flourishes — whose twee extravagance often feels one step away from the band parodying themselves — to booming synth, this frenetic style paired with precise, inventive production results in a track that demands one’s full attention.
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The steady “Capricorn” and the buoyant “Classical” find a similar balance, merging metallic synths, folksy string melodies and stately, affecting piano compositions. On the latter, Koenig declares, “It’s clear something’s gonna change,” and asks, “when it does, which classical remains?” The baroque pop track was pre-released last month as a single, and as such will likely be unjustly overlooked in favor of fresher tracks. Yet it more than deserves to extend its time in the spotlight, as echoing bass and effervescent keys cheerily fuel Koenig’s reflection on how schools of thought are repurposed, reborn and replaced in times of revolution and renewal.
Near the record’s midway point comes “Connect,” an album highlight. As its purely piano overture melts into pulsating synth and base, the track’s foundation oozes a sultry sophistication. When its chorus arrives, “Connect” provides an electrifying crescendo. As Koenig warbles, “I know once it’s lost it’s never found,” an authoritative synth punctuates each word between oxygen-sucking pauses before speeding into a more frenzied version of the initial overture, resulting in a deeply satisfying track.
Amid the crashing, distorted synths of “Gen-X Cops,” Koenig classifies history as cyclical and inevitable, where each generation is doomed to make mistakes by force of their respective rigid worldviews. While “Prep-School Gangsters” opts for layered vocals and much lighter production, its lyrics point to a similar circularity, as Koenig addresses the young rebels of New York’s prep school scene – “Somewhere in your family tree / There was someone just like me.” Ultimately, the two tracks both operate as fitting, self-aware reflections from a band whose narrative has so often been rockily dominated by conversations surrounding privilege and genre appropriation.
In “The Surfer,” the track’s mellow and kaleidoscopic backing walks a fine line between sounding like a generic “Lo-fi Beats to Study To”-type melody or a euphoric Khruangbin instrumental. Fortunately, it leans towards the latter, but even its duller moments are overpowered by its earnest vocals. With warmth and magnetic steadiness, Koenig delivers the chorus like a poem as he sings out, “But you were born beneath fluorescent lights / You’ve never seen a starry night, you saint.”
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As the angelic choir remixed into its backing gains steam, “Mary Boone” offers a slow build before breaking free with eclectic percussion and twinkling techno flourishes. With its delayed payoff, the track feels structurally reminiscent of the band’s 2013 entry “Hannah Hunt.” However with “Mary Boone,” this payoff comes too early and resets multiple times throughout, resulting in a less effective track. Furthermore, its attempts at euphoric breaks stand out as less original than the other more imaginative lofi hip hop interludes scattered throughout the album.
The album’s final two entries function as a sort of calm after the storm, opting for more reserved, warmer melodies. With its less entangled production elements, “Pravda” slows the album’s pace and exudes a lightness and curiosity by force of bubbly bass and beachy percussion. While the campfire-esque guitar plucking and steady drums of “Hope” seem to indicate an optimistic anthem, there lies a tinge of cynicism and despair in Koenig’s lyrics.
String-heavy instrumentals become dominated by grandiose piano – perhaps even regal enough to sneak into Nicholas Britell’s “Succession” score – as Koenig works through his own gloom-filled proverbs. While each example varies – “His prophecy was insincere,” “There’s no one left to criticize,” “The enemy’s invincible” — his response remains the same as he softly hums “I hope you let it go” masterfully closing out the band’s reflection on turmoil, fate and surrender.
While instant classic status may once again be in Vampire Weekend’s reach, the inventive, layered production of “Only God Was Above Us” allows it to surf well beyond the classical.
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