The Sour Notes, Darkest Sour

Lately, I’ve been really, really slow about writing reviews of stuff I’ve received; I’m ashamed to admit it, I have to say, but it’s true. Sometimes, I’ve been so freaking behind that by the time I’m able to put on the headphones and listen to an album…the band has gone ahead and already released the followup.

That’s pretty much what happened with Austin band The Sour Notes. Back in the latter part of last year, singer/guitarist/songwriter Jared Boulanger got a hold of me and said, “hey, I’d like you to hear our new album, Darkest Sour; here you go,” or words similar to that. And I said, “cool, I’ll do that!” And then the album languished on my hard drive well past the November release date.

Fast-forward to now, and I’m finally giving it a listen, only to discover that Darkest Sour is no longer the band’s “new album” — that would be This Is Not Our Music, an album of covers the Notes released just last month. Well, fuck. What the hell do I do now? Do I listen to the album they actually sent me, or follow ’em forward and listen to the covers album? I mean, they do a cover of Jawbreaker’s “Accident Prone,” which is literally one of my top-ten favorite songs of all time, plus Sleater-Kinney’s “Modern Girl” and Beyonce’s “Halo”…

In the end, I decided not to go the latter route, and instead keep on listening to Darkest Sour, the band’s latest “originals” album; you should definitely check out This Is Not Our Music, and you can do that right over here, but damn the torpedoes, I’d charge forwards in the direction I was already going.

And yeah, I’m glad I did. Despite its bleak-sounding, almost apocalyptic name, Darkest Sour is a bright-yet-hazy blast, sometimes of retro-tinged rock, sometimes of moody post-punk, sometimes of alternately ethereal and jangly pop, and it’s very, very good.

Things kick off with the tense, fuzzy-edged rock of “Clock Strikes Twelve,” with its driving, manic beat bringing to mind Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (the comparison’s helped by the dark haze over the whole thing, to boot), but quickly downshifts to “Today, I’ll Buy No Sorrow,” which retains the haze of the lead-in track but gets more swirly and ethereal, and poppy and sweet besides, with a great little rootsy riff right in the middle.

One of my personal high points is the defiant “Stay Close,” where The Sour Notes meld chiming, churning indie-rock with retro-synth-pop; I truly love the way those throwback synths just kiss the melody, making me think immediately of The Rentals. The digital version of the track cuts off so abruptly, by the way, that I thought for a minute that something might be wrong with my laptop, but then the Notes moved into “Free For the Taking,” which is less rock and more large-hearted pop that’s equal parts electro and Teenage Fanclub jangle.

The Teenage Fanclub thing comes back a few times on Darkest Sour, actually, like on “Small Hints,” which feels like an oddball crossbreeding between Trembling Blue Stars (particularly in the vocals) and Sigur Ros. It’s swooning and gorgeous, simultaneously pastoral and high-flying, with Boulanger’s voice half-buried in clouds and occasionally sounding like he’s not even singing in English (hence the Sigur Ros reference).

“Soft Applause,” on the other hand, wears its New Pornographers influences all the way down its metaphorical sleeves, and in the best way imaginable. The guitars are gentle but still sharp-edged when they need to be, and Boulanger and backing vocalist Yola Blake do a great interplay with their respective voices. Things get a little weird and psych towards the end, but even then it feels flawlessly choreographed.

That psych vibe lurks throughout the album, popping its head up on tracks like “Loose Leaf and Bleak,” which starts off ’60s-ish as all hell, complete with a vintage organ sounding, but then later gets darker and mutates into something akin to ’80s post-punk. “Parallel Action,” too, is keys-heavy and densely-layered, a driving psych-pop instrumental that makes me think, oddly, of The Wheel Workers more than anything else. It’s anthemic despite having no words, skyward-reaching despite the grit under the fingernails.

“On Yer Mark” is another high-water mark, breezy and speedy and sly-smiling, with Boulanger seemingly inviting the listener to “take a shot” and assuring them he’ll be right there…which makes me wonder if he’s talking about wanting them to punch him in the face, beat him at chess, or start a relationship. It feels closest in tone to album-ended “Ride It Out,” which makes me grin and think, “holy shit, the ’90s never ended”; there’s a Darling Buds warble here, a big of early Smashing Pumpkins over there, and maybe even a little Tripping Daisy waaaaay back in the back.

Looking at Darkest Sour as a whole, I’ve got to say this: this band, by all rights, should be bigger than they are. They’re at least six albums into their career, and every damn one is better than the last, which is a difficult feat to pull off for any band, whatever the hell kind of music they make. Listen to this band now and witness that journey for yourself; it’s a beautiful thing to hear.

(Feature photo by Jared Boulanger.)