From the first short slide down the bass that begins “In the Fire,” I was hooked. The track, which opens The Treatment, the latest release from Bloomington IN “slowcore” rockers Early Day Miners, is solid and an inspired choice to bat lead-off on the band’s sixth full-length release. The confident pacing of the track belies maturity and experience, so when I went to do a little post-listening/pre-writing intel work, I wasn’t surprised in the least to find that the band had been in operation since 1999.
What did surprise me was that somehow this band, whose roots are smack-dab in the middle (sort of) between my ancient homeland of Chicago and my current stomping grounds in Cleveland, had managed to elude my own indie rock radar. Obviously they’d been on other folks radar, as evidenced by their presence on an aristocratic label like Secretly Canadian and the look I got from one of my local record store guys when I asked if he was familiar with the band’s oeuvre (though perhaps the look was as much for the fact I use words like “oeuvre” in common conversation as it was for the self-acknowledged galaxy-sized hole in my internal indie reference library).
So, suitably chastened, I returned to my den of iniquity (aka humble apartment where not nearly enough iniquity takes place), and guided myself through a crash course in the history of frontman Daniel Burton’s “musical cooperative” between spins of The Treatment. That re-education, along with a cross-town relocation move and a sudden case of the Cleveland Crud (i.e., a multi-symptom extra-awful common cold, and not gonorrhea – remember the part where I said not enough iniquity in my life these days?), hopefully and partially explains why I’m a couple weeks late on posting this here review.
But back to the music. While “In the Fire” is solid and adult, it is “So Slowly” that makes me want to play table top drums with my fingers. The one-sheet suggests The Cure as an influence here, and for once the hacks and I agree entirely, particularly with respect to the bass work. I can totally visualize a withdrawn teenager with colored hair peeking out under his too-small hoodie, ipod headphones insolently stuck in his eardrums, digging this tune while his mother dishes creamed corn and his father tells him to turn that goddamned walkman off. In my scenario the kid does as he’s told but not without a smirk and a mumbled comment about the dated nature of the walkman reference, the kind of thing that will contribute to the high blood pressure his father will soon start taking medication for, thus fundamentally altering the family diet and turning the kid into a radical vegan by the time he leaves for college. The saddest thing about this little daydream of mine is that, odds are, had the parents just asked the kid to play the song on the stereo so the whole family could’ve heard it during dinner, rather than tuning out from the dinner table discourse, everyone probably would’ve dug it. That’s how catchy and steadfast this tune is.
Catchiness and steadfastitude considered, however, the album continues its march up the Peak of Awesomeness with “The Surface of Things.” Three tracks deep and I already know I want Marty Sprowles to be the drummer in my next band. Dude holds things down in a conservative fashion on each individual track, but his approach changes song after song, enough to show that not only is he a master of syncopation, but also technically astute on a variety of percussive instruments. Meanwhile, Jonathan Richardson is bringing forward a punchy, pulsating bass that pairs perfectly with the spartan keyboard accompaniment and Burton’s gentle narration of alienation and romantic anomie.
It is on “Spaces,” however, when I begin to think of The Treatment as a series of short stories. Like the kid with the headphones mentioned earlier, this song has me harkening back to the day of the Cleveland black-out. (Remember that? When something went kerflooey in Cleveland and practically the whole Eastern Seaboard went dark?) I see the story (or maybe a short film) as one where a couple is in the process of breaking up, giving in to the notion that the romantic experiment was a failed one, despite all efforts, and then the power goes out. Perhaps a bit literal, given the lyrics at the start of the song, but then I see the man in the relationship engaging in some plaintive wishful thinking, while the woman is more determined to finish severing the ties, at least until you hear her voice come in at the two minute mark. As the song continues, we hear the woman’s voice more and more, singing about how she (and they) might as well give in, considering the apocalyptic nature of the whole thing. A lot more fate here than love, but it is something anyway. Burton’s vocals are spot-on here (as are those of Daun Fields, the female vocalist), so much so that I’d actually dig the opportunity to watch video of the band recording in the studio for this one.
It is so good that “Spaces” joins “How to Fall” as my two favorite tracks on the album. “How to Fall” might be the must soothing song about hopelessness that features bongos ever. OK, it might be the only song about hopelessness that features bongos (and they might not even be bongos), but it is still wonderful. If this one was filmed, I’d have Spike Jones direct and feature a down-and-out Tarzan playing a more self-aware version of Mickey Rourke in Barfly. Or maybe as the score to some silent footage from the more melancholy moments in Confessions of a Superhero.
As the album progresses, the songs stay down, with the morose plugging of “The Zip” and the midwestern horror of a feared future and interminable present. “Silver Oath” then closes out the album with brevity and image-evoking poetry. Arguably the strongest lyrical contribution on the album, the song itself is utterly distinct in sound from the rest of the album. The ethereal vocals are not Burton’s, but rather belong to Kate Long (a former touring member of Early Day Miners), and the song ends abruptly just as the guitar starts to move from slow picking to something deeper. Just like that, the record ends, with a glimpse of the diversity you’ll find in the rest of the band’s catalog. For those interested, you can check out an excellent write-up of their … wait for it … oeuvre here.
Early Day Miners – Silver Oath
