Dad rock. It’s a phrase I’ve been reading a lot lately. I’ve come across it in connection with Wilco and The National. Just last week, I think, I saw an interview in which The Walkmen answered a question along the lines of, “How does it feel to be a band that plays what many consider to be dad rock?” They were ok with it. I am, too, but I’m not sure I’m supposed to be. The phrase is usually, I think, meant as a criticism or a snark. Those are bands I really love, so who cares what it does to my street cred?
It started me thinking about what dad rock is, though. I think when you see it written by a music journalist, they’re usually referring to a sound that draws pretty heavily on guitar-based classic rock. I’m not sure if it’s a pre-requisite, but most dad rock bands also seem to be composed of men over thirty. The Walkmen fit both of these, but I noticed something else about them as I listened to Heaven on my run yesterday that makes them, maybe, the only true dad rock band out there.
I mentioned to CoolMom the other day that I’ve had this weird kind of feeling for the last few months now. It’s hard to describe. Being settled into a routine with work and kids, though, gives this feeling of moving forward without ever really going anywhere. Waiting for something to happen. Anticipation that something’s eventually got to give. Tension. And tension is the best word I can think of to describe The Walkmen’s sound on Heaven.
The jangly, reverby guitars are a familiar sound in rock music. I always describe the sound and the feeling of it as what you’d hear in the score of a Quentin Tarantino film. And the vocal technique I usually associate with that sound is something like Urge Overkill’s version of “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” or Edwyn Collins’s “A Girl Like You.” The Walkmen’s lead vocalist, Hamilton Leithauser, has a quality, an urgency, to his voice that, when paired with the music, just builds the tension. You get that same feeling of waiting, straining for something just to resolve itself, and The Walkmen just leave you there. It’s pretty cool.
Lead single “Heaven” may be the best example of this on the album. The guitars just keep jangling along while Leithauser belts the lyrics. The combination actually makes me crane my neck and tilt my head a little like a guitar player feeling for that string bend. The album contains example after example of this: “Heartbreaker,” “The Love You Love,” “Nightingales.” More subdued songs like album-opener “We Can’t Be Beat,” “Song for Leigh,” “Jerry Jr.’s Tune,” and “Line by Line” still get you to the same place of longing, just with a slower build.
The themes on Heaven are pretty grown up, too: mostly loyalty and sticking it out through long-term relationships. But it's the sound that pushes things along and provides the emotional weight.
The Walkmen have been on a roll. Their last two albums, You and Me and Lisbon, were fantastic, each producing classic tracks like “In the New Year” and “Angela Surf City.” Heaven continues their evolution, and the title track is another masterpiece.
Over the last few years, I’ve felt emotional connections to the music of several bands of twenty-something kids. With Heaven, though, a group of guys nearer to my own age have created something that I think really captures the essence of being a cooldad. Don’t be ashamed of liking dad rock. It’s something the kids just won’t understand for a few more years.
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