Architecture In Helsinki - 'In Case We Die' (Moshi Moshi)
5/5
By: Michael Lewin
There's a storm - thunder follows lightening that makes a silhouette of a castle on a rickety and jagged hilltop. We're at a window, reading a book by candle-light. Some ominous tones ring out, regular; harmonised and operatic wails, a trumpet, bass-drum kicks... low moans. It becomes weightier, thicker, darker... lightening flashes again, and rockfeedback is momentarily blinded...we blink, rub our eyes, blink again, and open them as wide as they can. We're in a cornfield, and the sun is so light-hearted we could almost weep. A piano riff sends us tripping and skipping through the field. Our pulse races as a little dynamic shift sends us into an approaching euphoria, and we're about to jump and shout and scream and we're tingling and everything's getting faster and faster and lighter and we're floating and ohmigodwe'resoexcitedwecouldjust...BURST!
So begins 'In Case We Die', and at no point we can think of does it become anything other than an absolutely delicious, multi-faceted quirk-pop gem. If anyone complains that it sounds too vomit-inducingly twee or conceitedly sweet we'll kick them really hard. If the 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' traded high camp sleaze chic for a red gingham dress, and sat sucking a lolly-pop on a hay bail kicking it's feet absent-mindedly whilst gazing with massive, sparkling blue eyes up at the fluffy white clouds, Architecture in Helsinki would be standing behind, playing 'Wishbone'.
Opener 'Neverevereverdid' (its title suggesting exactly the ebullient, joyously excitable nine-year-old rush of the track), we've already tried to describe, and probably failed to express quite how wonderful it makes us feel. 'The Cemetery' begins with a calypso that suggests some of the more danceable synth tracks from '69 Love Songs', before a head-buzzing, schizophrenic ska pop tune breaks into a low, squelching burst of confusing, fast-delivered verbal imagery. It flips into 'oh-woah's, then into a slapstick vocal interplay reminiscent of the Unicorns before a volte-face to the ska-pop again, suddenly ending with us completely reeling, breathless and happy to hit repeat. There's a persistent 'Amelie' feel to the whole endeavour, a notion that you've just witnessed the most touching and hilarious scene of two very pretty teenagers losing their virginity tentatively, fumblingly and with complete satisfaction on both parts; which, in a way, is exactly the relationship between band and listener. The album never lags or grates, despite a definite potential to do so. That each song contains more ideas, hooks, tunes, highs and lows than the best of most bands' entire albums sees to that, every new track complete involving and epic in its own fleeting, fluid way. Shifts never seem jarring or out of place, and rather the dynamic changes themselves often contain the most pleasurable, satisfying and involving moments of 'In Case We Die'.
Whilst the album always feels completely cohesive and consistent, it never seems to repeat itself. Nor does it feel like the vision of a single individual, as with Stephen Merritt's works. Architecture in Helsinki's greatest achievement is that they give the impression of a wide, disparate but focussed collective, whose many ideas are collected together and shaped with an agreed, egalitarian direction. It's closer to the Arcade Fire or the Fiery Furnaces, but without the more grounded, earthy rock feel of those bands. Rather, songs hang in the air with a brilliantly delicate and fragile whimsy that is never, ever tiresome. It's an evocative gem that gives the impression that across the world, every Ritalin-munching primary school disco has kids dancing around giddily to this and only this while eating Love Hearts with LSD in them.
'In Case We Die's genius is that it makes you forget that it is unique. Drawing upon so many influences from pop's history, you briefly believe that the charts are filled with music like it, that this is commonplace. It is very much not commonplace - and be grateful for it. If it were, the world would be insane; it would skip around hand in hand with the moon on green, rolling hills. That kind of thing should be an exceptional occasion, one to be replayed over and over, to be reflected upon and savoured. It could never be commonplace, but it'd always be pretty f**king special. Like 'In Case We Die'.
Artists in this article: Architecture In Helsinki
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