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| MUSTHEAR REVIEW: |
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Consistent with my post break-up habit of musical masochism, I’ve recently been over-playing Quiet Is The New Loud, encouraging its melancholy melodies to lodge themselves in my heart like salt on an open wound. Instead of letting my old punk records work their healing magic, I keep wallowing in the sadness of morbidly introspective artists like Nick Drake, Neil Halstead, and the Norwegian duo, Kings of Convenience. Quiet Is The New Loud—it’s almost pathetic how perfectly this album title describes the dominant trend in my listening habits. As I get older, I’ve noticed the volume knob on my stereo progressively turning in the wrong direction (to the delight of my neighbors), even as the music itself has become gentler and more polite. Ten years ago I’d have trashed this record as unpardonably toothless and sissy-sweet, but now it strikes a chord. I’m not afraid to admit it—I’ve grown soft in my not-so-old age. Premature mid-life crisis aside, Quiet Is The New Loud is a deceptively simple and genuinely moving album you shouldn’t be ashamed to own. Produced by Ken Nelson, whose credits include Badly Drawn Boy’s Bewilderbeast and Coldplay’s Parachutes, the album is so free of contemporary tinkering it’s almost primitive, relying purely on acoustic instrumentation, evocative lyrics and lustrous harmonies to sustain a mood of stark beauty. “Winning A Battle, Losing The War” opens the album and establishes its tone, as Erlend Oye and Eirik Glambek Boe sing with anguished immediacy: “Even though I’ll never need her/ Even though she’s only giving me pain/ I’ll be on my knees to feed her/ Spend a day to make her smile again.” After this, the album seems to unfold in slow motion, each song another sad installment in the story of love. On “Singing Softly To Me,” the duo’s acoustic guitars roll gently behind their Simon & Garfunkel-flavored harmonies, as minimal touches of trumpet, piano, and cello slowly surface and vanish, subtly deepening the sonic texture. Still, something rare is achieved when the pair performs without accompaniment, as we are reminded of the ageless power of two voices and two guitars. It's summer now, and while the Kings of Convenience still beckon, I’m beginning to feel the sunshine. So while Quiet Is The New Loud may not sit at the top of my play-list for long (“loneliness gets tired of itself and breaks like a tomb that can no longer hold its dead”), its songs of love and sadness will still tug at the heart strings so long as I continue to roll the relationship dice. —John Ballon (email) August 11, 2002
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