Think back to high school English classes. Remember all those essays you had to write ““ the ones that analyzed the most minute details of a piece of prose? You’d find meaning in rhythm, in alliteration, in places the author probably didn’t even intend it. You’d attribute an arbitrary significance to the smallest of symbols just because the teacher expected you to.
That’s how I feel about trying to dissect “Narrow Stairs.”
To illustrate: The eight-minute single, “I Will Possess Your Heart,” features a four-minute layered intro that builds into something almost beautiful before ceding the spotlight completely to Ben Gibbard’s airy vocals. I could claim that the intro builds to mirror the slow growth of Gibbard’s love, or that the repeated plea, “You’ve got to spend some time with me,” has multiple levels of significance, but that would be a stretch.
The single reflects the trends present in the bulk of the album. It finds Gibbard and guitarist Chris Walla trying their hand at something new and experimental but ending up with seemingly arbitrary compositions.
In the process of trying to find a new sound, Death Cab loses what made its previous albums so endearing. Gibbard and Walla know they’ve reached a turning point in their careers ““ with their second major-label album and the passing of their 30th birthdays, something had to change. And it did, but despite their efforts, “Narrow Stairs” lacks the consistency of “Plans,” the intricacies of “Transatlanticism” and the charm of “The Photo Album.” It is just as transparent as ever.
But you wouldn’t know that from the start. The album’s opener seems promising enough; “Bixby Canyon Bridge” is a graceful transcription of Gibbard’s attempt to find an epiphany at the heels of Kerouac. He gently sings, “Barefoot in the shallow creek/I grabbed some stones from underneath/and waited for you to speak to me” over arpeggiated chords and a pensive guitar drone. But then the band loses its restraint, turning a beautiful lamentation inappropriately into a rock song. The last minute is dominated by a gut-wrenching distortion: effective when a band tries to make a point, ineffective when it drowns out its culminating lyric, “No closer to any kind of truth/as I must assume was the case with you.” Like Kerouac, this song fails to realize its potential.
The end of “Bixby Canyon Bridge” serves as a primer for the majority of the album. In place of would-be melodic restraint, Death Cab offers us a handful of short, poppy, power-chord-driven songs such as “No Sunlight” and “Cath …” that build too quickly to the chorus and rely too heavily on lackluster synchronized strumming. Ironically, these two songs feature some of the record’s darkest lyrics. And, lyrically speaking, this is Death Cab’s darkest album yet.
But amid the self-deprecating lyrics and themes of aging, lost optimism and remorse, the album boasts a few truly beautiful songs. “Talking Bird” uses a charming, albeit transparent, metaphor and a “Transatlanticism”-era minimalist accompaniment to convey a heartbreaking plea. A few songs later, standout track “Grapevine Fires” pairs subdued, flowing melodies with Gibbard’s slightly abrasive tenor to produce an appropriately incongruous image ““ that of celebrating love and fate in the midst of destruction. “Long Division” is the album’s first truly gratifying upbeat pop song.
But three tracks cannot carry an album. While these tracks remind listeners of all the reasons they love Death Cab, they don’t provide a clear route for the band’s future. Their next album is a gamble. It could compensate for the shortcomings of “Narrow Stairs” and become something truly inspired, or it could bring the demise of the band. “Narrow Stairs” is good enough for now, but it leaves Death Cab’s future uncertain.
““ Christie McCollum
E-mail McCollum at cmccollum@media.ucla.edu.