Wolf Parade

Wolf Parade
At Mount Zommer

Originally assembled to support the Arcade Fire on the road, Montreal’s Wolf Parade soon took a gracious leap across the line of prosperity with the release of their 2005 debut album, Apologies to the Queen Mary, which transformed them from opening act to indie superstars. But as keyboardist/vocalist Spencer Krug and guitarist/vocalist Dan Boeckner, Wolf Parade’s songwriting duo, took time to pursue other projects (including Sunset Rubdown, Frog Eyes and Swan Lake for Krug and the Handsome Furs for Boeckner) fans eagerly awaited the day the two would once again join forces and kick our pathetic asses with another Wolf Parade LP. Well, ladies and gentlemen, that day has arrived and that boot in our asses goes by the name At Mount Zoomer.

At Mount Zoomer is an important document of contemporary music, breaking free of expectations garnered by Apologies and showing a maturity in songwriting by both Krug and Boeckner. In contrast to their occasionally muddled debut, Zoomer works better as a single cohesive unit. They’re the Roxy Music of the indie community and, like Ferry and Eno, Krug and Boeckner’s creative impulses sometimes conflict. But while this rendered minor wounds to their rookie efforts, their sophomore release benefits from it because they have learned to work their differences into something very effective.

The album opens with an Enoesque keyboard lick and then breaks into a catchy, synthesizer-heavy groove while Boeckner sings of a city that he has lost touch with in “Soldier’s Grin.” From there we move on to the stomping beat of “Call it a Ritual” and the pained sleeplessness of “Language City.” They’re drained. They’re tired. But they refuse to succumb to mortal deficiencies. “All this workin’, just to tear it down” seems to sum it up quite nicely.

Arguably the best song on Zoomer is the Krug-penned “California Dreamer.” It is the antithesis of a radio single, but it shows the group branching out into something more progressive and, ultimately, more interesting.

Closing out the album is the 11-minute epic “Kissing the Beehive” (the original name for the album until copyright laws got in the way). The Wolf Parade that plays on “Kissing the Beehive” is not the same group that played on “Shine a Light” nearly three years ago; they have matured greatly and are apparently much more ambitious toward their art than before. Kudos to them for fucking all expectations and doing what suits them personally. They challenge their audience, weeding out the closed-minded, and create a stronger connection with those still standing.

Wolf Parade is like a pot of stew: an amalgam of style that compiles the best aspects of each component into a whole new product. Unfortunately, what this means is that they aren’t very original. I could make an endless list of comparisons between them and someone that came before them. However, what they do boast is emotion and drive. They simply aren’t content with putting out a half-assed record. They are going to pour every last drop of feeling into what they do, and that’s what really makes them original.

As Krug states in “California Dreamer,” “I think I might’ve heard you on the radio, but the radio waves were like snow.” And when the snow melts away, what you’re left with is an aural diary of the insomniac fervency for perfection that these men carry. And that’s exactly what this album is — a diary of perfection.