The default reference point when writing about The Walkmen is The Velvet Underground. Walkmen vocalist Hamilton Leithauser's routinely somber lyrics and the group's deceptively spartan arrangements, colored with dots of captivating instrumentation, and a New York homebase lead many to liken the group to Lou Reed and the Underground's patriarchs of avant-garde rock symphonics. However, Leithauser's lyrics lack the narrative depth of Reed's, and while the music is brightly eclectic, it doesn't deliver quite the affecting grip of the Underground's highs and lows. This is all good news, for the The Walkmen have cultivated a sound that charms on its own terms. This musical freedom of choice is captured on the group's latest, Lisbon.
The group has been noisily gathering steam since 2002's debut LP Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone, a dark, effectively unpolished sonic exploration with chaotic orchestration that kept listeners on edge until 2004's widely acclaimed Bows + Arrows. Although the production value was upped, and a minor hit had in "The Rat", the release continued to push the band, with Irish trad mingling with surf rock and a liberal dose of garage rock, among others, resulting in a record that was ambitious, intensely brooding and well executed. The mood lightened on A Hundred Miles Off in 2006, with Leithauser channeling bits of blue eyed soul and and the band presenting a more playful front and Latin-inspired flair (see "Louisiana"). A whole-album cover of Harry Nilsson's Pussy Cats followed, before the deeply emotional You & Me, where the group's penchant for gut wrenching balladry took center stage. Lisbon is clearly a growth record, the band grabbing from their earlier songbooks, sussing out what works, and wrapping it in an 11-song, 45-minute package.
Stylistically, the record is diverse, and there's an engagingly hazy atmospheric binding the whole affair. It's deeply evocative, the soundtrack to an extended stay in a foreign place – physically or mentally – with enough explosive twists to arouse from even the deepest stupor. "Blue as your Blood" plays out like a lost Sun Records track, the iconic railway rhythm embellished with strings, Leithauser's reverb-laden, smoky vocals lighting the rails. "Angela Surf City", which treads more familiar territory, is the record's answer to "The Rat", and will likely find equivalent favor, though it's the least interesting track on the record. If nothing else, it documents the percussive brilliance of drummer Matt Barrick. The stirring "Stranded" leads with a sweep of Big Easy–inspired horns that carry the delightful dirge, as Leithauser introspectively croons about love, loss and aging: What's the story/With my old friends/drunk and lonely/To the end/How I love 'em all/As the days slip by/And they're all following my lead/Oh why does the rain fall cold/When I'm stranded, and I'm starry-eyed. Vocal harmonies and singular guitar phrasing drive "All My Great Designs", an ultimately haunting nearly five minute passage that's followed by the summery-by-comparison love song "Woe is Me" – the weight of romance is heavy yet fun. The album–closing "Lisbon" is a skeletal piece, with string and horn flourishes that give a complementary, exotic element to lyrics on escapism: Turn deaf ears on all that we don’t want to hear/Cause for travel has come again. Leithauser's unique inflections marry perfectly with the track, resulting in a lounge ambience, where strangers are gathered to watch the spectacle of a tipsy singer coming emotionally unglued yet never skipping a beat. It's solid entertainment.
