In the ocean of memory

The times when rock and roll ruled the music world are over. Which bands still fill the big halls with guitar riffs and feedback thunderstorms? Actually only those who have been with us for at least 30 years. The War On Drugs, founded in Philadelphia in 2005, have played themselves secretly, quietly and quietly in this select circle.

When they tour early next year, the group will also perform at New York’s Madison Square Garden – in front of 20,000 people.

Heartland rock without the bad guy attitude

Anyone who knows the music of front man Adam Granduciel and his five bandmates can call this quite logical. After all, it sounds like it has been buzzing through the ether for 30, if not 40 years. On the first two albums – back then with Kurt Vile in the line-up – the formation hid their big melodies behind drone clouds.

In the meantime they have refined their sound with the records “Lost In The Dream” (2014) and “A Deeper Understanding” (2017) in the direction of Heartland Rock. The War On Drugs play catchy yet never simple songs that do not shy away from the highway pathos, but manage without any badass attitude.

They continue this path on their fifth work. They don’t make big leaps on the now appearing “I Don’t Live Here Anymore” (Warner), rather they strive resolutely forward on the paths that artists like Tom Petty and Dire Straits have cut into the thicket of radio-grade rock. Whereby singer, songwriter and lead guitarist Granduciel exemplifies a determination of the hesitant kind.

The 42-year-old is a freak, a perfectionist who is forever tweaking the sound nuances of the albums. His lyrics reveal a similar brooding streak. Again and again it is about transience, about running away, about rain, darkness and falling leaves.

Granduciel’s fragile voice, which appears almost disconnected from the body, brings back memories of Bob Dylan when he sings on the title track: “Now time surrounds me like an ocean, my memories like waves. Is life just dying in slow motion? “The singer countered the doubts immediately:” I’m getting stronger everyday. “

The War On Drugs leave the synthesizers a more offensive part this time. In some songs half a dozen are mixed up. Nevertheless, it all sounds very natural. This is precisely where the art of the band lies: Despite all the tinkering, their sound grows organically from the roots of their musical ancestors.

This time they are more at home in the eighties than before. Anyone who has heard the title song can find themselves humming “Bette Davis Eyes” by Kim Carnes. Elsewhere, A-ha’s plastic pop pulsates through the sound (“Wasted”), then again a drum machine that reminds of Genesis of the Phil Collins era (“I Don’t Wanna Wait”).

Adam Granduciel knows what he owes his role models. When he and actress Krysten Ritter had a son two years ago, they called him Bruce. As Springsteen liked to do, Granduciel praises his father. In “Old Skin” for example: “Been down at the yard, workin ‘my whole life to follow my father’s dream, then watch it fade away.”

His voice rests on a bed of piano, synth and Hammond organ for two and a half minutes before drums and guitar enter the piece and transform it into a pounder.

Meanwhile, the band’s sound is so well established that when listening to the record you don’t just have to think of the predecessors mentioned, but also of earlier songs by the group itself. Musical hooks like Tame Impala, the other contemporary rock project that attracts a huge audience , The War On Drugs Don’t Beat. They have established their niche and decorate it album after album with more rock memorabilia.

The fact that so many people want to make themselves comfortable in there with them is not only anachronistic, but also somehow comforting.