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Rating: It is known that music is made of passion, love, sometimes anger, hatred. But often, these feelings turn out to be incomplete for the realization of mature and conscious works. Often what gives that extra touch, what makes a difference, what pushes a group towards success and fame, is judgment. Punctiliousness. In this case, even the metrics. Elements that every good musician must absolutely take into consideration: elements, if we want, opposed to genuineness, the freshness of sound, the damnation of soul, body, and mind for the realization of a project. Yet, these are elements that differentiate the beginner band (at their debut or with a couple of not well-received records behind them) from the more experienced band, which combines eagerness with a bit of flair.
The Metric can be an excellent foundational example. A Canadian quartet (led by the beautiful singer, the blonde Emily Haines) that warns new listeners right from the name: here, amid riffs and electronic samples, there's also room for geometric rigor, the significant reduction of error margin, nerve-wracking meticulousness. But let's not misunderstand: nothing complicated, nothing intricate, not even a hint of syncopated rhythms changing direction every two seconds: here stratification finds no place, simplicity reigns, but it's an almost alien simplicity, devoid of mistakes and imperfections as far as human intervention can erase errors and imperfections. And this was already hinted at in the debut album "Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?" from 2003: a good rock that winked at alternative pop, ska, and electronics, never excessive contaminations and always well-balanced among them, without imbalances. Critics quickly praised them: great work, great awareness, all around excellent. And, without exaggeration, that record was indeed a great job, nothing particularly innovative or exciting, but still quite a promising debut.
In 2006, the Canadians decided to release their second work, titled "Live It Out". The cover leaves the band's fans somewhat perplexed: while Emily's head was in the foreground, beautiful and enigmatic, on the previous work, now the singer (or rather, her head) appears tilted, in the midst of a black sea (blood?). It's therefore clear that curiosity is strongly aroused: one would expect at least a musical maturation, or anyway the exploration of new musical territories, elements dictated by the new artwork. And yet no: the second chapter of the saga remains well-rooted in the sounds already encountered in "Old World Underground". What leaves a bit of bitterness is the aspect concerning the lyrics. But let's proceed in order and analyze each song one by one.
The album opens with "Empty", a track with a rock flavor that starts with a beautiful guitar riff followed by Emily's raspy voice and pronounced electronic samples. Once again, a sense of apathetic perfection permeates: the song sounds decidedly good (who would ever have the courage to hit the stop button during its execution?), but the sound parts seem decidedly, in some way, predetermined, equally exaggeratedly distributed. "Glass Ceiling" tries in some way to soften the frosty punctiliousness dictated by "Empty": here the riffs feel freer and more personal, without schematic obligations, Emily's voice pleasantly reminiscent - heaven forbid - of the best times of Broken Social Scene. We reach the provocative "Hand$hake$": harsh riffs, accompanied by aggressive vocals of Haines and, somewhat surprisingly, electronic parts insertion. What really surprises about this song is not the musical aspect, but the band's attitude towards the piece: perfection seems annihilated, the riffs are dirty and messy, nothing follows a precise pattern.
But as the wise saying goes: "The exception proves the rule." And indeed, with song number four ("Too Little Too Late"), the return is made to a well-oiled and predefined setup, which allows all the elements of the song to fit together perfectly (the creeping bass line that opens the composition, the background keyboards, the singer in the foreground). And this time, good harmony is achieved: the song isn't excessively mechanical, attracting like never before the listeners -like bees are attracted to honey- and, in its unfolding, it convinces greatly. "Poster Of A Girl" is the perfect portrait of the album: a portrait where everything is magnificent, everything is brilliant, everything matches. But, unlike "Too Little Too Late", this time the band's maneuver is slightly more cumbersome. The guitar struggles to impose itself on a decidedly pop track, impregnated with electronic surges, and Haines shows some uncertainty, between whispers and sudden breaks, in the continuation of the track. In short: brilliant on the surface, but creaky at the foundations.
The sixth track, "Monster Hospital", chosen by the band as the first official single, opens with a distorted guitar and then proceeds, with some unease (faithfully depicted in the video, in rotation on Flux) with rapid electronic insertions, leading to a contagious chorus ("I fought the war, I fought the war, I fought the war but the war won!"), of those you can't get out of your head even with a cannon shot. Undoubtedly the best of the album: the background guitars give the song an aggressive yet provocative tone. And here's the portrait of the average listener, headphones on and attentive gaze, up to this point listening to the album: galvanized, unable to stay still on the chair, distracted while humming all the choruses of the previous tracks. Please make sure, if you buy this album, to remain as detached as possible, a daunting yet not prohibitive task, because from the seventh composition on, things get... at least critical. As an electronic insertion closes "Monster Hospital", here come the first notes of "Patriarch On A Vespa", which without any hesitation we can define as the worst song of the entire album. Everything has already been heard, everything has already been said: the typical Metric scheme beginning-verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus-chorus fails to spark even a minimum of enthusiasm, the guitar seems almost washed out, the keyboards are too intrusive -concerning volume-; and as if that weren't enough, the lyric is remarkably shockingly banal.
The shock is decidedly strong: to partially soothe - our turmoil comes to the rescue "The Police And The Private", a pleasant piece that tastes of Ok Go, with the insertion of an incredible funk base, very rhythmic, supported by a vulnerable and simultaneously sexy voice and sporadic electronic insertions. After the utterly forgettable and colorless "Ending Start", comes another good track, the eponymous "Live It Out": here the Metric even attempt an almost epileptic crescendo, in Blondie style, eliminating the electronic synths to make room for genuine riffs and decisive and aggressive vocal parts. But, unfortunately, this album does not follow the rule of dulcis in fundo: the eleventh and last track, in fact, has a misleading and at least banal title ("Dead Rock'n'Roll"). Perhaps, however, the Canadians had a bit of reason on their side: with this track they literally kill everything good they had done on the album, lowering the final evaluation on the overall work by one notch, and bringing a nice grimace of disappointment to the listener's face. This is nothing but an irritating track with house contaminations (brrr), practically devoid of any guitar intervention: but what is most worrisome is the sudden disappearance of the sound freshness and perfection of the first songs, also considering the fact that this track wasn't number twenty, or number sixteen, or number fourteen, but number eleven, and this suggests (let's hope not) a progressive decline of the group.
In conclusion: many positive aspects, among which the group's harmony, the not too rigid perfection of some songs, the compositional and sonic excellence of the first six tracks. Among the negative aspects, alas, are the lack of inventiveness, as well as beauty, of the last tracks, the excessive punctiliousness in some songs, the disappearance of freshness in the concluding parts, the lyrics mostly either banal or, at best, good but already heard.
Definitely a step back from the debut of three years ago.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Empty (05:55)
There was no way out, the only way out was to give in
There was no way out, the only way out was to give in
How I love to give in
Here no one sleeps, one lays up while the other lies down
Where no one sleeps, one lays up while the other lies down
Ask the line on your face what the line on your hand meant
We couldn't see what was coming
Shake your head it's empty
Shake your hips move your feet
Shake your head it's empty
Shake your hips move your feet
I'm so glad that I'm an island now
Sickness was fixing me some
Coughed out my heart in the last stall
Now that the damage is done
I never miss it at all
02 Glass Ceiling (03:55)
Only know what I'm told, only know what I'm told
Fast asleep daydreaming
Start to push, break your own glass ceiling
Can't count, can't catch the pieces falling
Who let it end up on the ground
How am I gonna know you're letting me down
How did I end up on the ground
Only do what I'm told, only do what I'm told
Last to leave cold calling
You're gonna lose your arms, amputate plasticine
There's no knight in silver armor shining
Who let it end up on the ground
How am I gonna know I'm letting you down
Who let it end up on the ground
How did he end up on the ground
Face down on the ground
Only go where I'm told, only know what I'm told
Inch to inches crowding
We can't leave, it's the last road open
Every speed on our knees is crawling
03 Handshakes (03:06)
Say you wanna get in
And then you wanna get out
When you get the money
To buy yourself a castle
How will you wear your leisure
Zipper back and front
On the fence together
Weekends in leather
Flip to the right
Slip back to the left
For handshakes at the ranch
Small talk at the crossroads
Rubbing up to the ladder
Sucking on every rung
Coming up forever and hanging on
That's entertainment
Cameras roll
Can you face the pavement
For a happy dog and pony show
Everybody loves you baby
Do you miss me
I miss you
Buy this car to drive to work
Drive to work to pay for this car
04 Too Little Too Late (04:22)
You can burn your paper fingers in the ashtray
Place your swollen lips on mine
You can shave your heavy head in my carpeted hallway
Sure for the first time you're wearing the right clothes
Now take them off
Meet me on the band room rug
Tie my right hand to the ride
You can take a live wire into the bath with you
For a feeling you can't find
You can entertain your childhood friends with a tour of the bedroom
Laugh to erase the dirt on your mind
Oh let's move out
Meet me at the motel
Tie my right hand to the bible
Too little too late but we can't say no
It's too much to feel
Tie my right hand to the bible
06 Monster Hospital (03:30)
Monster hospital, can you please release me?
You hold my hands down, I've been bad.
You hold my arms down, I've been bad.
I've been bad, I've been bad.
I fought the war but the war won
Monster movie, Daddy Warbucks up against Bobby Fuller
And he beat him hands down
Lead in the head
Put a little lead in his head.
I fought the war but the war won't stop for the love of god.
I fought the war but the war won
07 Patriarch on a Vespa (04:32)
Promiscuous makes an entrance
Her mouth is full of questions
Are we all brides to be
Are we all designed to be confined
Buy ourselves chastity belts and lock them
Organize our lives and lose the key
Our faces all resemble dying roses
From trying to fix it
When instead we should break it
We've got to break it before it breaks us
Fear of pretty houses and their porches
Fear of biological wrist watches
Fear of comparison shopping
Dogs on leashes behind fences barking
Pretty little pillows on floral couches
Until our faces all resemble dying roses
Stop trying to fix it
Patriarch on a Vespa
Runs a red and ends up
Crushed under the wheel
08 The Police and the Private (03:43)
Get straight and wait here while I try to find the exit sign
When will you stop asking strangers, no one wants what we want
Keep one eye on the door, keep one eye on the bag
Never expect to be sure
You're working for the police and the private, the pirates and the pilots
Fingerprinted waiting for the train
The doctor, the writer, the hairdresser,
Felt up and fingerprinted waiting for the train
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing mama
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing something I don't got
There's a place that ends here I know
When they close the gates I'll cry
So tired of never sleeping
The whole world wants what we're on
Didn't make this up I learned, I learned it from a friend
My friend is coming clean, she told me
Keep one eye on the door, keep one eye on the bed
Never expect to be sure who you're working for
You're working for the police and the private, the pirates and the pilots
Fingerprinted waiting for the train
The doctor, the writer, the garbage collector
Felt up and fingerprinted waiting for the train
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing mama
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing love
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing mama
Lord lord mother we are all losing love
Lord listen lover we are all missing love
Got to get out
Got to get to you, the orphanage is closing in an hour
09 Ending Start (03:20)
All this that is more than a wish is a memory
All this that is ceases to be
All is revealed
The obvious door opens nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing left
Nothing left to chance
When you try to see, we'll watch you
When you try to leave, we'll keep you
When you should be dreaming, we'll wake you
But don't scream, we'll make you swallow your words
Gave them our explosions, our reactions, all that was ours
For graphs of passion and charts of stars
Gave them our reactions, our explosions all that we are
For graphs of passion and charts of stars
How ending starts
Ending starts with answers.
10 Live It Out (03:43)
On the day we were supposed to leave
You changed your mind at the station
You had a nice apartment
There was a good bar downstairs
Your old friend worked there
I'll go anyway, I'll go anyway
They won't refund the ticket
It's a good story
But I don't want to live it alone
Crash to take a chance
I wanna live it out
Look at you, I know I'm already dead
No concrete adversity
Only traps of our own actions
How we wanted it to be
Now I'm never gonna see you again
You checked out
Vertabrae by vertebrae
Roll your way out of a coma
Look up, the nurse is smiling
What luck, the nurse is me
Your old body is dead
Your body's dead, you're a word instead
In my sleep I repeat it
It's a good story
But I don't want to live it alone
Crash to take a chance
We were gonna live it out
Look at you, you're already dead
How will you remember me
Digging ditches out of boredom
Said you would never leave
Now you're never gonna be here again
You turned off
Dum dum dum dum dum
Sha la la la la
Dum dum dum dum dum
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