Vampire Weekend - Modern Vampires of the City

Whilst the other indie omnigod of 2007 MGMT dicked around with all sorts of psychedlic shit and generally disappointed us all, Vampire Weekend were sensible and wonderful enough to continue bewitching us all with Ezra Koenig's distinctive voice, an ear for brilliant song structure, and just all-out fun. And that last attribute is not one we get to freely associate with the hipsters all too often. The New York boys (I say boys; they're now approaching 30) are that most usually uncool of traits: dependable. Yet album #3 may just be the record that goes down as their greatest to date.

2008's self-titled debut was certainly a great crowdwarmer, with all of their most memorable tunes, but didn't quite wow me. 2010's Contra was better still, and thrived off of a resurgence in surf-rock and twee-sounding pop music. Now, in 2013, they've straddled both approaches and whittled away the fluff (however scarce in supply) sometimes found on their previous two attempts.

We begin with the hushed, melodic 'Obvious Bicycle', a small piano-led track that's simultaneously bleak ("You ought to spare the world your labour/ it's been twenty years and no one's told the truth") and hopeful (in its refrain of "don't wait") in its outlook, as though trying to make the best of a shit situation. It's a theme that's recurrent on MVOTC: on 'Unbelievers', the insanely catchy and impassioned follow-up, Koenig poses the question "I'm not excited, but should I be?" As if to answer the question musically, all sorts of brass explosions come along, and although the lyrics are largely referring to increasing secular thought ("what Holy water contains a little drop for me?"), I can't help but feel the uncertainty and anxiety stems more from general young ambivalence. If unsure of their life direction, Vampire Weekend are more than a little confident with slipping in twenty or so classic hip hop references on 'Step', a rather charming ballad that offers the couplet "And punks who would laugh when they saw us together/ Well, they didn't know how to dress for the weather". The track generally tears apart snobbery and generational bickering ("wisdom's a gift but you'd trade it for youth"), and by sounding fragile and a little innocent, treads the whole 'I'm not pretending to be better than you but I'm better than you' line quite successfully (I'm sure that's not their intention).

Then all hell breaks loose on 'Diane Young', 2013's most undoubtedly catchy burst of energy yet. Koenig's vocals are put through all sorts of paces to produce a series of weird, fun hooks - try not to sing along to the baby, babies; I dare you. And it's only just dawned on me that it sounds like "dying young". Well that's changed my worldview entirely. Equally surprising is the rather forthright approach to sex on 'Don't Lie' ("Old flames, they can't warm you tonight/ so keep it cool, my baby"); a rather stately (with its harpsichords and military drums) version of YOLO culture. That Contra musical style resurfaces on 'Hannah Hunt', an understated piano ditty that sets up a loss of love rather beautifully - and all sorts of innuendoes, homonyms and double meanings are being suggested over on RapGenius and other such blogs about "kindling the fire" and "sense/cents" and what have you. You could probably read into the track as a metaphor for the death of the cassette tape if you were so inclined. The clearer allegories and messages are those made regarding religion - 'Everlasting Arms' posits the obvious doubt: "If you'd been made to serve a master/ You'd be frightened by the open hand". Following the track with the much more animated religious anguish found in a Jewish/Arab relationship on 'Finger Back' is probably not coincidental, and it's an impassioned delivery complete with bizarre spoken interlude and the repetition of "blood".

It's not all bad though: Koenig acknowledges the necessity for faith and optimism on 'Worship You' ("little bit of light to get us through the final days you wanted"), a track ferociously fast in verses pausing briefly to ask general questions of a so-called benevolent God. Which is fine and dandy I suppose but a theme a little tired by this point. Nonetheless, 'Ya Hey' (sadly not an OutKast reference) draws on the similarity to Yahweh but mercifully steers us into a more musical religious experience by touching upon Desmond Dekker's Israelites rather than Moses' and the Rolling Stones' 19th Nervous Breakdown. "My soul swooned", is the confession at heart, and, I'm sure, one most 20-somethings too confused or disenchanted with more conventional methods of faith can relate to. Weird sound effects essentially outlive any such thoughts, though, and it's a fun-sounding track. Perhaps that's just in contrast to the ominous 'Hudson', all heavy marching drums and talk of being wrapped in flags and rising tides. Haunting choirs and strings in the background make it an unlikely candidate for future replay value, but it's an interesting change of tone for the band. They carefully opt for a much prettier swansong, though, and ("you take your time,") 'Young Lion' is a far more soothing sentiment to close with than most.

It's quite refreshing to see such topics dealt with with a maturity and an open-mindedness in the era of flippant dismissal and constant atheist ego-ramblings on Twitter (shut the fuck up, Ricky Gervais), and whilst retaining all of their usual knacks for fine craftsmanship, it's a strong coming-of-age record that, at the very least, makes you think whilst you dance. Your move, Lady GaGa.

Rating: 9/10
Highlights: Unbelievers; Diane Young; Finger Back; Step;Ya Hey
Avoid: n/a

Artwork Watch: Oooh.
Up next: Charli XCX