Hey, thanks Record Club for finally nudging me into giving the War on Drugs a listen! I know it's nearly sacrilegious at this point to be a mid-30s Philadelphian who really gives off the "I like breweries vibe" to have NOT really listened to this band before. You'll have to also get me to sit down and listen to Kurt Vile one of these days, too. I know, I know. Having lived in this city for this long, I am SURE I have listened to WoD on WXPN or even 104.5 at some point. RIP Y100, I miss you. And yet, I Don't Live Here Anymore was my first real effort. (Maybe it was the unease around a white band using a political action that targeted Black and Brown people in the '90s and early '00s as their name that initially turned me off, who knows).
As someone who has a soft spot for sad dad music, this really hit the spot. It's a lotta Springsteen, sprinkled with some Arcade Fire and a dash of the National. With of course, plenty of Bob Dylan vocals if Bob Dylan was turned down to about a 4 or 5. Though Pitchfork gave the album a whopping 8.4. They hate everything! WOW!
It's the perfect album to accompany the impending wave of seasonal depression about to crash down on me (and many of you, I imagine), as the sun sets at 5 PM and "the leaves fall down like rain," if you will. There's such a specific melancholia to mid-30s-early-40s. Is it settling or settling in, you know? Even today as I walked home from a few errands, I thought, "Why am I still in Philadelphia? Should I have been braver? Should I move to Seattle?" Then I turned the corner and turned the thought off. The album is a lot of "what am I running from/running toward?" and HOO BOY DO I GET THAT FEELING.
I imagine this would be a great band to see at a venue like The Met or The Mann where I could rest my weary feet and back. Let my aging bones settle as the young ones (the early 30-somethings) actually stand during the show. Standing at shows! Can you IMAGINE?
I give this album 4 out of 5 sad dads.
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