Les Savy Fav: OUI, LSF

I’m not sure if we can call Les Savy Fav enigmatic. They’re not mysterious or anything, like another “art punk” band, Clinic, who always wore surgical masks. Their weirdness is more about being a band who seemed to be well-situated for larger success in 2001. And then they vanished for six years, until their next album in 2007. Then put out a couple decent records, only to vanish again after 2010. But they never really vanished. A couple of the members joined Fred Armisen to form the house band for Late Night with Seth Myers, and lead singer Tim Harrington seemed to just be a large, beardy bald dude who hung out in Brooklyn, went to local shows and was just generally a man/artist about town. I know I saw him at a couple NYC shows over the years. He’s a pretty noticeable dude.

It seems that things went poorly during COVID for the Seth Myers show and his band was termed. But better for us, I suppose. As they could find their buddy Tim and finally record a new Les Savy Fav album after a fourteen-year hiatus. But, again, LSF has always been one of those bands who I feel like had very little exposure outside of Brooklyn and the immediate environs. Or at least didn’t until they hit what for them should have been a popularity fever pitch with 2010’s Root for Ruin. And then… nothing. So for this sneakily influential band to decide to come out with an album in this current influence vacuum peaked my interest. Would they put out some horrendous version of their take on Olivia Rodrigo? Or get all electronic or something. But, no, it turns out that LSF can’t be anything but LSF. Even backsliding away from their later poppier stuff into earlier noise rock territory. OUI, LSF is about as 2024 as a rotary phone.

How does one even describe LES? Well, first track, “Guzzle Blood,” sounds a bit like a band shouting into a storm during an air raid. But not in a hardcore kind of way; in an artsy post-punk way. And it kind of goes from there. And goes. And goes. Without really going anywhere. And maybe the immediacy for which this band always stood is somewhat tamped down — or let down — by age. And the production. Not that Harrington’s voice wasn’t always somewhat drowned in reverb or whatever it is that makes it sound slightly metallic while also a bit like a cop yelling down a well at a fallen toddler. And, yes, he doesn’t have the kindest voice. It’s… artsy. Once again, a term used predominantly to compliment something that’s slightly outside the norm (aka, not typical and/or great) and you just don’t know what else to say. What a… well, it’s a baby alright.

And, look, I’m the last person in the world to want to tell LSF their baby is ugly. Because it’s not ugly, per se. I just can’t in good conscience tickle it under the chin or pat its head and say it’s cute. The reverb alone on the first handful of tracks just kills me. I hate it. I know it’s some sort of Brooklyn tic that the bands from this ‘hood just can’t help since the rise of fucking Grizzly Bear and their ilk. But the echoey thing seems like an intentional dodge. Smearing Vaseline on the lens. Telling your audience that you can or should just vibe and not listen. That you aren’t confident in one or more of your components. Usually the vocals. Or you just aren’t into something I’m into. Which is totally fair and fine. But too many of the tracks feel like punked up versions of a Dr. Seuss book. And maybe this is always what the band sounded like, and I just refused to listen. Or my 1999 Cat and the Cobra era ears heard something new and vibrant that my 2024 ears can no longer hear. Because this music isn’t ultimately that much different than it was back then — it just sounds different.