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First Nation
This mystic, free rock crap really loves to wander without going anywhere. Three and four minute songs end up sounding like ten minute excursions in the name of ambivalence or pure wanksterism and songwriting is sacrificed for "exotic" arrangements and instruments. First Nation try to blow that stereotype out of the water on their debut and they come damn close to outright embarrassing everyone around them.
Paw Tracks
Unfortunately it takes this trio and roster of engineers a few songs before they actually take flight; their music is involving and sultry, piled high with beautiful guitars, hazy synthesizers, and seductive vocals, but they don't always take those assets to a satisfying level. I can practically feel the band struggling to keep this album subtle, a relaxed affair meant for cooling down, but there's a constant pressure etched into the record that leaves me wondering when they're going to let go of all that pent up power. As a result, the first few songs feel like awkward steps instead of powerful statements - this is not the way to open an album that has as much intrigue as this one.
There are three songs before "Monkey" begins, all three of them sound as if they are misplaced, like awkward children left to walk the streets of New York after knowing only the wilds of some primal continent. "Monkey," on the other hand, is a sure-footed, bluesy moan. It segues into the pounding, tribal, multi-layered "Omen." Kate Rosko's and Nina Mehta's high-pitched, striking vocal performances draw all the instruments in a circle and force them to work together. By the time the album is half way over, the band finally sounds comfortable with each other. All the open production and thumping drums begin to fall together in soothing and strange ways. Repetition begins to build the music into sprawling works of symmetry and foreign seduction.
Much like their contemporaries, First Nation seem to have problems keeping their work consistent for the duration of an entire album. Unlike their contemporaries, First Nation don't sound scattered. The album has problems taking off, but after the first few songs its all a rocket ship to smoky opium dens, psychedelic dreams, and erotic fantasies. "You Can Be" has a lovely bass line pumping through it and vocals of such an exciting nature that I can't help but think of far east countries and the people there huddled inside old buildings. Drinks are consumed, women are dancing, bar fights erupt in short fits, the snow outside is absolutely oppressive, but this little place has lights inside keeping everything warm and perhaps slightly misleading. It's a fantastic song that leads into the poppy, upward flight of the final couplet. Two songs that ricochet with a sunny disposition and a desire for unhindered, innocent beauty.
First Nation are the first band of their kind that enticese me enough to want to come back for more than just a couple songs. If only they'd left the first few songs out or perhaps used them elsewhere on the record; the results could've been impeccable. As it stands, this is an impressive debut.
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