Plants and Animals // Growing Up Sucks

Words // Lily Linquata

Now into the tail end of their 2012 North American tour with This is The Kit – one which included a showing at the hugely cool SXSW in Austin, TX – Montreal based Plants and Animals played TT The Bear’s Place on April 4^th.

While Plants and Animals seems to have a concentrated, almost cultish following in the US, to say that their fan base is more opinionated than loyal would be appropriate. The band’s latest release, The End of That (Secret City Records), has received not only mixed, but astonishingly polarized reviews. If your cult fans' vocal comparison to and craving for past successes won’t meet your label’s press quota, fickle, picky, and needling bloggers will do the trick.

Case in Point: Pitchfork’s Ian Cohen gave The End a 5 out of 10, which is low by their standards, describing the Canadian trio’s third LP as “totally sincere and totally awkward,” at best, while suggesting that melodically, lyrically, and thematically, the songwriting  confused “a bummy hangover with a full-blown existential crisis.” Does Cohen make a point? Yep.

Nevertheless, there is a contingent of new fans and old fans alike who not only find it palatable, but -- shockingly -- enjoy The End. “Don’t believe Pitchfork,” one Rdio member wrote, others jumping in to eagerly compare the sound to Tom Petty and Neil Young, artists who hardly call to mind a word like “awkward.”

My take? The End is about growing up. You know, that pesky thing you’re told resolves, or stops, when you graduate college and get a job, therein making you a prime, stable candidate for marriage and mortgages? Yeah. That. Growing up is a constant crisis if you’re anything like me, and it’s infinitely awkward. It’s also a lot of fun. In that sense, Pitchfork’s Cohen and Rdio based fans are both correct.

To see the trio – accompanied by a bass player at TT’s – live, is something strange and subtle. Equal parts history lesson and confessional, it is easy to identify the comfort and ease with which Warren Spicer, Nic Basque, and Matthew Woodley perform together. Honed over many miles and with countless hours in practice, the band has been together for ten years, having started as an instrumental group.  Two LPs and two EPs under their belt prior to The End of That, 2008’s Parc Avenue was nominated for Canada’s prestigious Polaris Prize, as well as for a Juno. Vacillating from Fleet Foxes soft to Deer Tick gritty, the popular album found the group opening for the likes of Grizzly Bear, Broken Bells, and The National. The bar was set and set high. Fans and critics alike certainly haven’t forgotten that.  2010’s La La Land was coarser, chalk full of aimless resentment, doubt, and high octane anger. Given these two, earlier LPs, the character of The End of That is predictable.

Spinner cited frontman Spicer as “devastatingly handsome,” and I’d argue that the description applies to far more than a jaw line that warns of trouble and a voice that confirms that it’s too late. The End is a smug album. It worries like a 20-something, it aches like a single, child-less 30-something begging the question: “Is this really all there is?” and it jokes like an innocent kid. But it does so with a strong drink in hand, leaning against a bar, donning an offensively deep-V shirt, if not a gratuitous pair of sunglasses. It is, in a way, devastatingly handsome. These are hardly nuanced observations. They are literal. In an email to NPR, Plants and Animals described the album as “a late-night confessional, a catch up with an old friend over a beer. We went for the straight line... musically and lyrically.“ Duh.

That said, what 26 year-old can criticize the creative manifestation of a crisis? I certainly cannot. The Plants and Animals protagonist is trying to decide which way is up, what things are right, why adulthood is so damn heavy, what makes them feel good, and moreover "feel good” as it regards the balance of consequence and sustainability. That’s relatable. That's a mature admission of doubt, to me. And that’s what makes The End of That enjoyable.

The first single, “Lightshow,” is catchy, but falls short in comparison to the title track, which comes to life in the band’s Engelbert Humperdinck inspired music video. The opener, “Before,” brings back Parc Avenue’s softer moments, and I’m a sucker for softer moments. “Song For Love” and “No Idea” fit right in with Dr. Dog’s 2010 Shame, Shame. Check them out.

Live, these guys feel more like a jam band than I like to admit. (Here’s the thing: Unapologetically, I cannot stand jam bands.) Songs went on for too long in combinations which, in my opinion, got confusing, if not slightly chaotic. Once settled in, however, there were strokes of brilliance. ACDC, The Beatles, and some unnamed distant cousin of metal all came to mind at least once. Spicer’s voice is pristine and powerful, Basque is amazingly fun to watch on lead guitar, and Woodley played an excellent directors-like role from his seat. Any listed qualms are more personal taste than execution. The audience had a blast. Without question, Plants and Animals knows what they are doing on a stage, even if they’re not quite sure what they want to be when they grow up.

Recorded over two weeks at La Frette Studios outside of Paris with renowned engineer Lionel Darenne (Feist), The End of That is worth a listen. Above all, it suggests that Plants and Animals is collectively and personally frustrated by their growing pains, but not so much that they cannot spare a laugh or a round of drinks at their own expense. If you’re going to struggle – and we all do – you might as well do so honestly, deeply, and with a touch of humor. Though Pitchfork may have thrown the first (and certainly not the last) stone, the glass house proverb is well understood. Growing up sucks. Music helps. Maybe that’s the beginning and the end of that debate.

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It is worth a word or two about the opener, This is The Kit. UK-born, Paris-based Kate Stables played a short set reminiscent of Laura Marling, Alana Davis, or a stripped down, grungy Lucinda Williams. Having shared the bill with artists like Jose Gonzales, Alexi Murdoch, and Jolie Holland, her sound is hauntingly raw. Check out her album Wriggle Out the Restless on Brassland, and watch for a new album with Aaron Dessner of The National in 2013.