Giant Drag

Swan Song EP

(Roar Scratch)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

Thank god.  Let’s start with that.  I’m not even close to being a believer, but some folks say (falsely, for the record) that there are no atheists in foxholes, so maybe there should be no atheists in the face of new music from Giant Drag, either.  After all, if it really was God responsible for leading them out of the wilderness after five years, I don’t want to blow our chances for hearing a full-length by being a dick and not giving him his props.  So thank god. 

Although a full-length appears to be in the works, Annie Hardy and Micah Calabrese decided to cruelly taunt all of us (and tempt fate) by naming their four-song EP Swan Song.  It’s all too brief, but offers a concise capsule of what the duo is all about.

Back in 2005 when the buzz over their debut, Hearts & Unicorns, was nearing fever pitch, I wrote that one of the refreshing things about them was that they didn’t seem to give a damn about current trends or fashionable retro recycling.  That’s definitely still the case; there's not a single Animal Collective moment, disco beat or discernible Afro-pop influence.  The most fashionable thing about them at the time – the fact that they were a guy-gal duo that made a surprisingly large amount of racket – isn’t even fashionable anymore.

There won’t be a lot of surprises for fans, as these songs have been kicking around for a while (I have two of the four on a live bootleg from 2006).  While not quite on the plateau of its predecessor, there isn’t a weak track in the quartet.  “Stuff to Live For,” the single with the messy video, provides the bridge from the rawer, edgier passages of Hearts & Unicorns (“YFLMD,” “My Dick Sux”).  Its sound neatly mirrors being roused from hibernation, starting quiet and almost plodding, with a woozy heaviness that eventually erupts into wailing and bashing.

The title track picks up the mellower thread left by tracks like “Slayer,” though again with a noisy climax.   “White Baby” shows Hardy and Calabrese at their propulsive poppiest; it wasn’t a fluke that they got some mileage out of TV licensing the first time around.  That leaves “Heart Carl” as the track to carry the surprise, and it does so by stripping down to Hardy and an acoustic guitar, taking away all of the signature Giant Drag sounds.  It’s a stark and vulnerable song, about as musically straightforward and emotionally transparent as anything Hardy has written.  The considerable impact is heightened by context and surroundings; an album full of songs of its ilk wouldn’t pack the same punch.  Hardy surely knows that herself, and any chance that she’ll go all confessional coffeehouse in the future is pretty much dashed at the end of “Heart Carl,” when she switches from the soft, wounded voice that’s carried the song to the affected whine that fans will recognize from her somewhat famous between-song banter in concert.

“I’m done with that song,” she says with palpable distaste.  Fair enough.  Just keep the rest of ‘em coming.