Album Review : Maps And Atlases - Perch Patchwork
- Written by Russell Warfield
When you’re writing for a website which sternly prohibits its contributors from employing lazy genre labels to describe a record, reviewing a band like Maps and Atlases does most of the hard work for you. Opening with a one-two punch of tracks which sound but distant cousins to one another, Perch Patchwork immediately announces itself as a sticky – but beguiling – little puzzle. Neither specifically ‘math rock’ (as they have been so doggedly labelled thus far into their career), nor ‘indie’ (a word quickly gathering itself a reputation akin to the n-word on this site) – this is an album of fiercely inventive and hyper-skilful guitar music, impossible to categorise any less broadly.
In some respects, Maps and Atlases follow down the paths beaten by more widely lauded experimental guitar bands of recent years. Semi-instrumental opening track ‘Will’ strides up and down the fret-board with the measured confidence of a Grizzly Bear epic, whilst tracks like ‘Pigeon’ employ the skilful yet loose guitar work of a band like Dirty Projectors. Maps and Atlases, however, retain a sharper sense of focus than either of those often meandering bands, and their arrestingly technical musicianship sounds significantly less showy as a result. Thanks to the band’s sharply defined choruses and song structures, a casual listen doesn’t unearth the full wealth of the album’s sharp rhythmic turns or one-off instrumental flourishe
Keeping its sense of outwardly showiness to a minimum, however, means that the album somewhat sags under its own weight during its midsection – becoming blurred by the sheer density of obscure time signatures and bafflingly interwoven guitar lines. Ultimately, the songs that shine most are the ones given a little space to breathe. A definite highlight appears early on the album in the form of ‘The Charm’, propelled solely by ever swelling percussion and a solitary vocal. In a song that could have been smothered by overbearing instrumentation (the album’s final track, for instance, is hampered by an over-wrought string section), the band is thankfully wise enough to let the melancholic hooks take front and centre stag
The opening line’s bitter sentiment of “I don’t think there is a sound that I hate more, than the sound of your voice” is suddenly exploded, following a short pause, with the addendum of “when you tell me that you don’t love me anymore”. With layers of competing guitars over the top, the drama and resolution of the line would have been completely lost. And, besides, Dave Davison is perfectly capable of carrying the strong melody through its key changes without the backup of guitars, thank you very much. Similarly, songs like ‘Pigeon’ prove that this also works in the converse: hoop-jumping, back-flipping riffs are much pleasanter when the rhythm section takes a backseat, giving the vocal melody room to manoeuvre in a different wa
If you’re going to employ so many instrumental bells and whistles, you had better be brazen and intentionally jaw-dropping about it from time to time, otherwise the cake can get a bit heavy. That’s the cautionary tale lurking behind some corners of Maps and Atlases’ otherwise strikingly impressive debut album. But indeed, we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that this is a debut album, and that the tell-tale signs of exploration and orientation are to be expected. Perch Patchwork, then, is the sound of a band attempting to marry a violently technical style with tightly focussed song writing, and often being excitingly successful in the process.