It's clear to me that the Walkmen were the band of the 21st century's first decade. Unfortunately, the critical establishment and general population will never realize this, as the Walkmen have produced no great statements in their career, preferring instead to produce great music.
A Hundred Miles Off is probably the least great of their albums (though I personally have less use for the beautiful but spotty Everybody Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone), but it's better than people said back in 2006. In the context of the band's most recent two outings, You and Me and Lisbon, it does sound immature, and rough, and punky, and inconsistent, and maybe even incomplete. And that's why I like it. It's the wildest Walkmen album, as if the band had to exorcise all their demons before moving on to calmer, subtler locales. The shittier the world gets, the more sense A Hundred Miles Off makes.
The album's first and last songs are its most obviously pretty (and as such, the least representative of the record). They're both fantastic. "Louisiana" is a festive acoustic strummer, maybe the Walkmen's most joyous song (one undercut by the typically ambiguous refrain of "I GOT MY HANDS FULL"). The cover of Mazarin's "Another One Goes By" is more nostalgic in tone; it's also a coming out party for Paul Maroon, whose unique The Edge-meets-garage-rock playing style and sumptuous guitar tones dominate You and Me.
Between these two hits is a diverse collage of songs and snippets, glued together by a generally pissy attitude. "Tenley Town" is a goddamn hardcore punk song (the band has roots in Washington D.C.); "All Hands and the Cook" has a gothic-organ-led stomp; "Brandy Alexander" returns to the boozy, mumbly style that's occasionally of the band's first two records; "Emma, Get Me a Lemon" soars; and I sing "This Job is Killing Me" every day (usually right after "The Executioner's Song" by Cass McCombs).
These are not immediately welcoming songs. They are written and performed in the mood of 80's underground punk; the mix is slightly off, the guitars have barbed edges, emotions run high. Nevertheless, the sound is wholly the Walkmen's. I return to "Tenley Town": in what other hardcore song does the guitar, I don't know, "flow" like Paul Maroon's? What other hardcore singer would dare to project to the sky-- not just scream or growl-- like Hamilton Leithauser?
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