Howler. America Give Up LP

Howler America Give Up
2012, Rough Trade

by Michael Piske

7.6 / 10

At cruxes in our society’s history, we have needed a soundtrack for the times: records and songs providing crucial social commentary that cuts through the muddle and speaks directly to what people are thinking, feeling, and acting upon. Despite the title of Howler’s anticipated debut, this is not that kind of album.

And that is completely okay.

First, some other things that America Give Up is not: lyrically profound, especially original, musically expansive, or long in duration.

But again, this is just fine.

Howler, the brainchild of Jordan Gatesmith and his young Minneapolis pals, don’t try to achieve these lofty explorations. Instead, they have more fun in 32 minutes than you had in the last three weekends.

Upon first listen, one may take the easy way out, declaring that they’re just a Strokes/Television knock-off, plowing through fuzzy surf rock jams as Gatesmith tries hard to sound like he doesn’t give a shit, with lines like “I wish there was something I could do / ‘cause I hate myself more than I hate you” from “Told You Once”.

But when you let your guard down a bit, one realizes that Howler is just doing what they love - and having a blast while they’re at it. Their influences are obvious, but they pay them due respect. On the incredibly delectable “This One’s Different”, which feels as if it were picked up off the Is This It cutting room floor, dusted off, doused in PBR, and magnificently spit back out, Gatesmith sings “I said I could live without your touch / If I could die within your reach”.

For the most part, they push all the right classic garage/surf rock buttons at precisely the right moments. Opener “Beach Sluts” switches between sunny hand-claps and upbeat double time with squealing guitars. “Back Of Your Neck” has the ubiquitous “woo woo” vocal accompaniment to its signature guitar lick - oh, and a whammy-bar drenched guitar solo for good measure.

There is inconsistency and some repetition of course. The sonically wonderful fifth track “Too Much Blood”, a sunset-induced lazy jam that counts as the records only ballad, comes just as the listener is beginning to wonder if they have indeed listened to four separate tracks preceding it. “Pythagorean Fearum” gets way too ahead of itself, and the band members seem to struggle to keep up. The closer “Black Lagoon” feels more like when you’re wondering why your still up and everyone else is passed out, instead of the half-drunk walk to your car the next morning that the album should conclude with.

Not every good album needs to “mean something” or “make a statement” or “change you”. Not every sound has to be “ground-breaking”. Not every band needs to be “the next (insert artist here)”. America Give Up shows that as long as you’re having fun, who cares?