As much as it pains me to admit it, it is probably a bit snobbish to suggest that all bands who achieve stratospheric levels of radio saturation are chancers whose sole aim in making music is to hit the lowest common denominator paydirt. Nor should I really imply that they all sacrifice their artistic vision in favour of the ever more insipid for the sake of shifting another 100k units. Still though, there has quite clearly been a large element of this in popular music for a lot of years, and to those responsible, well, I guess all I can say is fair enough. Clearly the likes of Lightbody, Martin and Followill have long since reconciled themselves with their choices, and a bit of stick from little old me isn’t likely to change their ways. That said, it doesn’t half stick in your craw sometimes that such blanditry is so ubiquitous when there are innumerable artists producing music which could conceivably cross over to larger scale popularity without completely sacking off ambition or creativity. Band of Horses are a perfect example of such a band. Their dust-hewn Americana has raised their profile steadily for five years, making Infinite Arms a relatively major release in indie circles, but its arrival still comes largely unheralded in the mainstream.
Gradually increasing stature aside, little else seems to change in the band’s world. With every new release you know what you’re likely to be in for, something which makes the result no less pleasing. Sometimes the art of simple, stately songcraft, when exhibited as consummately as it is on Infinite Arms, can be far more stimulating than wild directional twists and turns.
The lilting waltz of Factory with which Infinite Arms opens is about as strong a back-up of the previous point as I could possibly provide. It is at once gorgeous, swooning, and completely and utterly typical of Band of Horses. Like much of the rest of the record, it provides little in the way of the unexpected, but it is still entirely satisfying. Perhaps the closest thing to a surprise to be found on the album is lead single Compliments, if only for the fact that it imbues an otherwise simple slice of pop with more bounce and swagger than we’re used to hearing from the band.
Band of Horses have always been fond of slow-burners, and Infinite Arms dips into their canon of lovelorn laments more than either of their previous two albums. They are masters of the art, and the likes of On My Way Back Home and Older can sit comfortably with their back catalogue, but with the heavy reliance on the sleepier songs comes the uneasy sensation that the balance of the album doesn’t feel quite right. There’s an unmistakeable lull between the middle and the end of the record where it is difficult to stop your attention from wandering until the gust of NW Apt suddenly blows away the cobwebs. I can’t help but feel that had the band bared their teeth once or twice more over the course of Infinite Arms, then the album would have been the healthier for it.
All told then, Infinite Arms is further proof, if such a thing were necessary, of Band of Horses’ enviable command of a song. It is not a perfect record, indeed it is probably not quite the best of their career, but there is sufficient elegance here to deem the album a success. And who knows, with a place on the soundtrack of the next Twilight film coming up, perhaps it’s not too unrealistic to expect them to be catapulted to the large scale fame soon...
3/5
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