Much like new labelmate Fleet Foxes, Brooklyn's
Death Vessel pushes vocals and lyrics straight to the forefront: Nothing Is
Precious Enough For Us, the band's second album, is more about singing than anything
else. Frontman Joel Thibodeau, whose androgynous, pre-pubescent pipes nod to
the honeysuckle-and-critters whimsy of Joanna Newsom, trills about vowels,
goldenrod, and "remnant fauna" (it's helpful to presume the album's title, a
line from "Obadiah In Oblivion," is self-effacing), and his high, helium-heady
warbles are—much like Newsom's—deeply disconcerting on first spin.
But Death Vessel ultimately transcends rote freak-folk fancy; Thibodeau's
bandmates kick up a compelling fuss (playing wine glasses, banjo, pump organ,
mandolin, horns, shaker, railroad spikes, and "flukulele"), and Nothing Is
Precious Enough For Us is strange and engaging, equal parts dulcet and dark.
Death Vessel's first full-length, 2005's Stay
Close,
was a louder, wonkier affair—Thibodeau has always had a penchant for
twang, but he's less interested in dissonance and discord now. "Block My Eye"
opens with gentle synth twitters before Thibodeau pipes up with his acoustic
strums: "My throat hurts, not from yelling but from holding back," he sings,
sounding resigned. "Bruno's Torso" swells and recedes, offering up a rare
electric guitar solo, while the campfire-ready "Fences Around Field" sounds
like it could be plucked from The Art Of Field Recording. It's hard to holler
along with Thibodeau—unless you're, say, 10—but Death Vessel just
might reignite a latent interest in glee club.