A Thing Called Divine Fits is the solid, at times even quite good debut album from a trio composed of some true indie heavyweights. However, in this case the collective past success of its membership results in “solid and at times even quite good” not being good enough to satisfy the inevitability of mounting expectations.
By now anybody that’s read a shred of promotional material about Divine Fits has gleaned that it’s a project/band featuring the talents of one Britt Daniel (he of the contempo rock giants Spoon), Dan Boeckner (former member of defunct big-deal Wolf Parade and half of the more recent duo Handsome Furs), and the sorta odd duck in this equation, drummer Sam Brown (of ‘90s punkers New Bomb Turks).
So yeah, Divine Fits are accurately described as an indie supergroup. There are those that will bristle against applying that tag to an amalgamation of indie musicians no matter how noteworthy, and only for the reason that the membership of Divine Fits are less widely celebrated in the here and now than the folks in Blind Faith were in the there and then, i.e. “indie” is by its nature different (read: inferior) from the late-‘60’s/early ‘70s rock that’s now designated as “classic” (read: superior). That’s preposterous, I say.
And there will inevitably be those that will get all huffy over the unmitigated gall of comparing the supposed self-contained indie purity of Divine Fits to an overblown concept that should evermore remain with the egocentric aged rockers of dinosaur days gone by; the one thing (the new thing) can’t possibly be anything like the other thing (the old thing). And that’s ridiculous, too.
Divine Fits are indeed a supergroup. As far as notoriety goes Daniel’s Spoon has played on national television numerous times (notably on Saturday Night Live) and Wolf Parade was one of the more talked about (and listened to) indie bands of the previous decade. And New Bomb Turks? Well, they were one of the finest examples of undiluted ‘90s punk rock, cut from unabashed ‘77/Killed by Death/garage stuff, and the fact that the band received any national press coverage at all meant they were indeed a major proposition.
But naturally Divine Fits aren’t Beck, Bogert, and Appice. No, unlike the heavy hard-bluesy rockism of those early ‘70s phenoms, the music of Daniel, Boeckner & Brown is essentially a well thought out blend of their two singing member’s distinct personalities. That is to say that Sam Brown falls squarely into the tradition of drummers as malleable/adaptable contributors (and on this subject it’s no surprise that Daniel has recently announced another side project/band with noteworthy sticks-man of the stars and fellow Merge recording artist, Jon Wurster).
The first thing that jumps out from A Thing Called Divine Fits is how smoothly Daniel’s and Boeckner’s vocals complement each other; again, this is nothing if not a well contemplated endeavor. I’ve no doubt when this record casually plays in countless college-town coffee shops that listeners clueless to the prior work of the contributors will pay little if any mind to the fact that Divine Fits features more than one singer.
In terms of casual listening, A Thing Called Divine Fits goes down pretty well. Better in fact than I expected, for while I hold Daniel’s work in very high regard (let’s just say that I consider Spoon’s Girls Can Tell/Kill the Moonlight/Gimme Fiction run to be some of the strongest contempo rock of the Aughts), I’ve found Boeckner’s work in Handsome Furs to be a study in diminishing returns. From this listener’s perspective Handsome Furs’ three albums just sorta lied there, which was odd for music so deeply inspired by the electronic sheen and rhythmic imperatives of new wave and techno pop; Boeckner and wife Alexei Perry had the ambiance and attitude down pat, they just lacked the velocity.
Divine Fits have velocity, however. And it’d be tempting to credit it all to Daniel, but in the end that wouldn’t be a bit true. For right from the beginning A Thing Called Divine Fits acquits Boeckner’s aesthetic very well; opener and first single “My Love is Real” percolates with a poppy new wave-y sensibility reminiscent of the best early work of Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark or even Depeche Mode. The song is a real grower, and while it certainly leans more toward Boeckner’s temperament than Daniel’s, the following three tracks, “Flaggin a Ride,” “What Gets You Alone,” and “Would That Not Be Nice” pleasantly tip the favor in the other direction and without any break in the momentum.
But from that point the record hits and extended patch of uninspired material. “The Salton Sea” drags on for far too long (though that’s only a smidge over four minutes), and after repeated spins both it and “Baby Get Worse” come off like a politely technoid U2 Jr. That prospect just might thrill some folks, but it doesn’t enthuse this writer one bit; to be blunt (and a non-antagonistic as possible) I’ve never been even slightly smitten with U2 Sr. (no, not even the early stuff).
And the acoustic “Civilian Stripes” feels very much like the sort of thing Spoon has occasionally tucked toward the end of their LPs as a nice little grace note after serving up a big wallop of high quality rockers. But here it just sounds like a no big deal sing-along strummer, an okay tune but ultimately nothing to get particularly excited about. “For Your Heart” however mixes a powerful rhythm with Boeckner’s techno-pop thrust and to swell effect, briefly returning the album to its opening motif (and promise).
But A Thing Called Divine Fits gets back on track in a big way with “Shivers,” an exceptionally executed cover of a song by Aussie group Boys Next Door, notable as the first band of one Nick Cave. But while excellently rendered, the song also sets up a nagging observation about Divine Fits as a whole, specifically that along with their also top-notch take of Camper Van Beethoven’s “I Was Born in a Laundromat” (the B-side on their “My Love is Real” 7-inch), the group’s best work is found in cover tunes. This probably won’t matter much to folks who don’t know Boys Next Door from Girls at Our Best. But in my estimation the finest moments of a band with this much talent shouldn’t be interpretations of other artist’s material; frankly it smacks of wasted potential.
But to be fair, nothing on A Thing Called Divine Fits is accurately described as bad. There are a few underwhelming songs yes, but the record actually closes out with a pair of very strong tunes, “Like Ice Cream” and the terrific “Neopolitans.” But in the end I can’t shake the feeling that Divine Fits is an avenue for Daniel to play around with new textures without potentially alienating Spoon’s large core audience and additionally a way for Boeckner to return to the land of live instrumentation without being accused of backsliding by some of the militant booty-shakers that took up the cause of Handsome Furs.
And that’s fine. But I can’t shake off the fact that my expectations were much higher. Again, by no means a bad album but in my estimation it’s an undeniable disappointment, and while the trio have been described as an ongoing entity, it’s still very possible that A Thing Called Divine Fits will be their sole release.
That possibility presents the potential for an even bigger letdown, because based on this record’s best original material (say “My Love is Real,” “Would That Not Be Nice,” “For Your Heart,” and “Neopolitans”) the group could easily develop into something major instead of just settling for the status of pleasant diversion.
Truthfully, it’s impossible to know how I’ll feel about this record in a decade’s time. But if A Thing Called Divine Fits does prove to be the band’s only full-length I can’t help predicting that it’s largely likeable contents will come to represent promise unfulfilled, and when dealing with the output of a supergroup that’s a very familiar place to be.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
C+
