Maps of Norway - Sister Stations (Guilt Ridden Pop)
2/5
By: Chris O'Toole
Maps of Norway represent the true culmination of experimental music. These are the positive results of years of toil, rejection and failure. The hard won successes of musical pioneers; quantified, identified, measured. These are the creations of genius, refined and developed to their ultimate conclusions; fully formed philosophies of sound nurtured over decades. 'Sister Stations' is a representation of all that music stands for; an affirmation of all that is right and good in recorded sound.
Unfortunately these are not the successes of Maps of Norway. They are the successes of Blondie, Joy Division, Blonde Redhead and more recently Interpol. These are the victories of those who have toiled at the creative rock face. Those who have mind the raw elements of this sound, carving it out of the solid granite and forming beauty out of the void. The victories of Maps of Norway are stolen and corrupt.
Maps of Norway are in fact the definition of pop music. 'Sister Stations' takes the work of these musical pioneers, sanitises it, repackages it and finally exploits it for commercial gain (the band even has the audacity to release their musical miscarriages under the label Guilt Ridden Pop). This is music without vigour, passion or the insatiable need to create. This is rote reinterpretation of others experiments. Maps of Norway never put a foot wrong, but they never take a step forward. They face front and march onwards; never do they look left or right and certainly never to the stars.
Opener 'Traffic' sets the tone for the whole album. Top string bouncing ball bass lines are accompanied bass drum pounding to build the foundations of Maps of Norway's house. Upon these foundations walls of shattered glass are built by guitarist Eric Hanson. A broken shard of an absinth bottle is used to lacerate the guitar strings, creating sharp, tortured yelps of guitar noise. This creates a spacious environment for Rebecca Leigh to unleash her pastiche of tortured artist, roaming through the roams of threadbare furniture lamenting the breakdown of relationships and other trite topics.
The theme is repeated on the next track 'Manners', as well as the following eight with only minor modifications. Each leads with a pounding bass rhythm that makes the ants on top of the stereo jump up in unison with each beat, and is accompanied by piercing guitar stabs. On occasion the Maps of Norway find their stride and the diverse elements of their sound come out of their individual spaces to form a cohesive whole, but for the main they linger in their isolation, leaving the tracks vapid and empty.
But then this is not even particularly good pop music. 'Manners' begins to explore some of the bands deeper flaws, exposing a limp and directionless number. All the pieces of the jigsaw are present here, but they are not quite assembled correctly and the result is a disjointed composition, lurching onwards into death. This is confirmed by 'Digit Six' which culminates with a 'triumphant' bass solo, but seems more the result of the rest of the band turning off their amps by mistake than any genuine statement of intent from Jeff Ball on bass. Again 'Matches', after an atrocious start of seemingly random drumming, recovers slightly before attempting to gain speed, but sounds as though it were recorded on a tread mill with the band simply playing faster without building any sense of palpable climax.
The band have their sound and stick to it. As such any opinion of Maps of Norway is largely based around an individuals regard for progression and originality. Are Maps of Norway playing from their strength, or are they afraid of straying too far into unknown territory? Are their dramas genuine or pastiche? Are their mini-epics spacious or empty? All these questions revolve around the simple question of how much do you trust the band? Are they exploding at the correct time or aiming for a tailored demographic? Are they intuitive or manipulative?
The coin is still in the air. This is a new band and the decisions are yet to be made. But after repeated listens the case for the latter in all instances begins to take precedence. This is a paint by numbers desperate grab at the lime light, a give up before we even begin failure.
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