Easily this storied band’s best album in a decade, if not more, Tower is throughout its 40 minutes a continued reminder of why you liked this band in the first place.
Now about to hit 50 in August, frontman/guitarist Ben Gibbard recently underwent his second divorce, and those twin towers of aging and sadness/loss inform the lyrics here. Anyone who’s ever struggled with anything will feel the punch of the melancholy “Stone Over Water” or the feeling of needing to give yourself a “Pep Talk” to get out of bed on some morning.
But where some artists would fail under the weight of emotion, Gibbard uses the feelings to fuel some of the most energetic rock his band has created in a long while. The juxtaposition of hard and soft is cathartic; sometimes you need to yell, other times you need to hide. This record understands that better than most.
Not for nothing have critics and fans flocked to this, the Seattle band’s 11th album. Opener “Full Of Stars” evokes the Death Cab of old, and you think it’s just more weak indie-rock pablum, but then the ripping “Punching The Flowers” yanks the covers off and lives up to its title. Bassist Nick Harmer is in full command here; he and Jason McGerr team with Gibbard to piledrive the riff while Gibbard—to borrow his phrase from the song—ruminates like a fatalist for hours: “Words were sharpened like axes / And he swung them blindly around / With no regards for the dangers / And slashes her to the ground / And I’m not sure which is worse / If God laughs, or He doesn’t.” Must have been some divorce.
Similarly, “Stone Over Water” morosely confronts the struggles head-on but then pivots into the angry, driving “How Heavenly A State,” which is in the running for Top 5 Death Cab songs of all time. A squall of feedback and some Talking Heads/Adrian Belew-esque guitar work lead to a relentless post-punk stomping beat, pausing long enough for an ethereal midsection that shouldn’t work but fully does.
Leadoff single “Riptides” grows with repeated listens, with all the Death Cab hallmarks of old, a midtempo garage rocker that both struggles and hopes, knitting all the conceits of the album together. The oily synths of “Trap Door” and minor pleasures of “The Flavor Of Metal” and the wistful, borderline-twee “Envy The Birds” only add flavor to the album.
The album also features two versions of the title track, copying the pattern laid out elsewhere; an acoustic and Death Cab-by-numbers tune pops up early in the runtime, melancholy and forgettable, and then an angular, alt-rock take closes the album with a surprising air of dissonance and dread. It’s a bold choice for an album closer and I love it, because sometimes life isn’t just about giving false hope that everything will be okay. Yeah, it might be, but it might also suck for a while. Life is never black and white and it rarely wraps up in two hours with a smile and end credits. Gibbard gets that.
Death Cab is no longer on a major label, but has gone back to their indie roots on the Anti- label, and that plus the personal turmoil has fueled the band to create one of their best records since their heady early-2000s heyday. A contender for album of the year.