Dia desses, escrevi sobre como o Grizzly Bear trabalha muito com um ideal de tradição em sua música — pegando emprestado esta mesma descoberta de outro blog, por sinal. Na mesma época de Shields, deu para sacar que muito disto se dá por Daniel Rossen e suas composições.
Algo que merece ser compartilhado: Lindsay Zoladz escreveu, na época de sua resenha do Shields para a Pitchfork, no seu Tumblr, sobre como a música do Grizzly Bear tem algo de arquitetônico, no sentido de uma construção primordial e acolhedora.
I wrote a review of Grizzly Bear’s very good new album Shields yesterday. Something I couldn’t quite articulate — maybe because it is something that’s so bound up in my personal experience with their two previous albums — is the interplay between “home” and “homelessness” that I hear in their music. Veckatimest in particular captures something about the ecstasy (“In this old house, I’m not alone…/Even wasting my time with you doesn’t matter if I think it through”) and banality (“Take all evening, I’ll just be cleaning”) of domesticity. Shields is something different altogether: intricate enough that it still has its own particular atmosphere and sense of space, but it isn’t built on solid ground. The structure itself feels adrift.
A year after I moved out of the living room and into a room with a door, I worked in a cubicle next to a guy who lived on a house boat. The mornings after stormy nights, he would come into work looking a little grizzled, saying how it was hard to sleep sound on rocky waves, but hey, at least it was a home. Shields feels a little bit like that.
Eis uma alternativa para dizer a mesma coisa — só que de maneira mais bonita.