Broken Bells is the self-titled debut from an interesting pair, The Shins’ James Mercer and Brian Burton, otherwise known as Danger Mouse. The retro-pop Shins gained mainstream popularity after prominence on the Garden State soundtrack, and Danger Mouse, well, all he’s done is mashup the Beatles and Jay Z on the infamous Grey Album, produce the Black Keys, Gorillaz, and Beck, and comprise one half of Gnarls Barkley.
Broken Bells would seemingly pluck opposite poles of the musical spectrum, but takes its lead from the similarly genre bending acts Burton has produced. The melodies and lyrical content could have been lifted from the Shins’ Wincing the Night Away or Oh, Inverted World. But Burton also expands that sound. This collaboration works in a way that many genre-crossing hookups do not. It is not merely good on paper. Nor is it a side project dalliance; this is a full-fledged band, and unlike one-offs like the Postal Service (musically Broken Bells’ cousin), a follow-up is in the works.
There is a cinematic quality to Broken Bells, which makes sense in light of Burton’s soundtrack obsession. There are plenty of sixties hooks to go with warm analog synths, manipulated percussion, horns, strings, and distorted guitar. The integration of head-sticking electronic effects and Beatles-like song craft make this record a triumph.
Half the time, Broken Bells seems to want to recapture the baroque chamber pop-psychedelia of the Zombies or Syd Barret-led Floyd. Rolling Stone said that this is “hip hop for turned on shut-ins.” That’s the Tim Leary definition of “turned on.” But there is more here. Broken Bells has been fed on an omnivorous diet of old vinyl and film scores.
“High Road” shows off Mercer’s melancholy and Burton’s crate-digger ear in a suite that makes me want to reference Lennon/McCartney’s “A Day in the Life.” The second half of “Vaporize” sees Mercer and Burton jive perfectly with hypnotic studio noodling, mariachi horns, and barbed lyrics like “Doubtless, we’ve been through this/If you want to f*** with me, you should know.” “Citizen” is dreamlike, nostalgic, a merry-go-round of a song. One of the catchiest on the album (actually, one of the few places Mercer’s chorus-constructing gift crops up), the song closes with bittersweet brass that’s as indelible as it is heartbreaking.
“Sailing to Nowhere” is my favorite at time of this review. It’s a Wurlitzer-conjured carnival, something that descended from “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” and then mutated. As the narrator, jaded by the wrongs he’s done, mutters lines like “Wouldn’t you know, you’re a devious sister/guts on your blouse,” the music swings side to side; it’s a nightmare waltz. The production really takes it to the next level: a nice Ratatat-inspired guitar lead halfway through, an abrupt shift to a stately piano with prancing ivories, a shift to strings with a gravitas that leaves me feeling like I’ve made an important life decision.
There are some questionable moves. “Ghost Inside” sounds like a Bee Gees rehash, something better left to Empire of the Sun or Scissor Sisters, maybe even the Lonely Island boys. If you dig you’ll say it sounds like Prince; if you don’t you’re more likely to call it Maroon 5. “October” treads water, and fails to really go anywhere. “Mongrel Heart” shows off vocals evocative of Morrissey or The Church’s “Under the Milky Way,” that lead into an Ennio Morricone-cloned spaghetti Western orchestral swell of strings and trumpets; the combination is intriguing but shaky. (Morricone, whom Burton has said is one of his biggest influences, composed the scores for Italian-made Westerns such as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.) While interesting, a few of the songs on this album are more valuable for their novelty than their successful gelling. Danger Mouse brings eclecticism to Broken Bells, but it can sound like a postmodern tapestry at times.
Where the elements don’t click together, they are often enjoyable in and of themselves—a digital flourish here, a wah wah piano there. Overall, though, the lush atmospherics can distance the listener from whatever intimacy may be in the cryptic lyrics. I’ve listened to this album dozens of time but have learned few of the words, only able to focus on the tone it evokes. There is room for Broken Bells to improve, to better blend their diverse talents. This is definitely a texture/mood piece, painstakingly assembled, one of unimpeachable musical taste. But it seems like they’re sleepwalking through it. That’s a shame for what may be 2010’s most important, but not best, album.
