Holy Grails
Just when we thought it was safe to turn our backs on instrumental indie rock
"We get a lot of demos," recounts Von Till. "Rarely does anything stand out. And Grails' music stood out instantly."
In October of last year, Neurot released Grails' debut, The Burden of Hope. Needless to say, it gave the band a little boost. "We were so blown away that Neurot wanted to work with us that the side band suddenly got pushed forward in everybody's priorities," says Hall. While the frontman had brought his fledgling group to the Make-Out Room two summers ago, this week marks its first San Francisco show since changing its name, signing with a prestigious label, and releasing its new album -- which to these ears feels like the first big step instrumental indie rock has taken in quite some time.
Details
Friday, April 30, at 10 p.m.
Tickets are $8
621-4455
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Of course, no band I know of enjoys seeing itself, in every article written about it, being compared to -- much less hailed as the inheritor of -- the legacy of the same one or two groups. That said, it's impossible to listen to The Burden of Hope and not be reminded of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Mogwai. You hear it in the thick-as-molasses, low-end guitar tones; in Horner's harrowing violin, which haunts the album like a painful memory you can't shake; in the general urgency of the songs, the way the notes don't so much express as hold back the flood of emotions. Grails' songs are like a scrim -- feelings of fear, sorrow, duty, and triumph writhe behind them like shadows pushing against fabric.
Hall concedes the comparisons: "Godspeed pretty much created the audience for this kind of music. Whether or not we like it, they did, so we're indebted to them." But he echoes the words of Amos, eavesdropping on our conversation, who points out, "None of us even listen to them."
"When you try to describe [Grails' music]," adds Neurot's Von Till, "you end up dropping the same three or four names that are all that matter of that genre. But they're definitely different."
This is true. Godspeed's output, for all its tortured grandiloquence, is some of the most didactic music around. Mogwai's members, who could almost be considered pop stars in England, tend to come off as cocksure, as if they know they invented this stuff. The 10 tracks on The Burden of Hope, however, are relatively short, ranging from two to six minutes; you could almost call them dirge-pop. And Hall speaks like a man who has seen enough in this world to know that his earnestness, his idealism, perhaps even his confidence should be kept a secret -- should be saved for the music, not the spotlight.
Furthermore, Grails, thanks to the motley backgrounds of its members, brings more sounds to this genre's palette than have previously existed. As Von Till notes, "They remind me sometimes of Eastern European folk music; sometimes it sounds a bit Celtic. And of course, sometimes it sounds very American, and it can give you that feeling that Americana pastoral music does without having to take as long as it takes to drive across Nevada."
But what appeals to me most about this music is its graceful, unassuming simplicity. Unlike most of the bands that Grails has been or will be compared to, there's no showing off here, no epic buildups or explosive freakouts. There's just the frail, aching beauty of a song like "Broken Ballad," on which tender, silvery guitars chirp back and forth, inviting a bass, a drum, and a thoughtful violin to join the conversation, which I like to think is about nothing more than a hard day at work, or perhaps the difficulty of choosing the right birthday present for your girlfriend. The tunes don't dance or rage; they don't prod your cerebral cortex with carefully plotted notes. They whisper, they float, and they paint a picture at once surreal and quotidian, desperate and optimistic. The burden of hope, indeed.
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