Records: Helium's medieval magic

By Jeff Sprague

I was prepared to say good things about this Helium album seven months ago. That's when I went with a friend to see Pavement and Helium, two standard bearers in the world of independent rock, at the Middle East in Cambridge. Brighten the Corners had been released that day, so Helium had been relegated to "opening band" status. They proceeded to blow the crowd away with a short set that included not one previously released track.

Although Pavement performed their former hits with impressive energy, their new material sounded too familiar--like watered-down earlier Pavement, uninspired midtempo rock complete with esoteric babble inspired by lyricist Steve Malkmus' newfound obsession with John Ashbery. Helium, however, seemed to understand that there are already enough bands out there trying to sound like Helium did in 1993, and had moved towards a new melodic focus. The Magic City finally provides a satisfying sample of the low-key grooves, clever instrumentation, and refreshing stylistic juxtapositions which impressed me so much that night in Cambridge.

"Vibrations" starts the album with a chunky, marching guitar part. Such a line would have backed the chanty vocals of an old Helium song, but here the band builds to a chorus where beautiful keyboard grooves complement Timony's wispy, and more melodic, singing. Timony's lyrics have shifted focus, as well. She's abandoned her old lyrical obsessions (candy, dirt, and toys) and replaced them with medieval tales of anger, lies, and love. She even decorated the liner notes with castles, dragons, goofy princesses, and unicorns. Although this may seem like a cute, kitschy move, remember that Timony used a superball as a metaphor for physical abuse.

"Lullaby of the Moths" begins with the line, "Hush now! Do not cry this crystal tear drop from your eye. A man would have to die, to stop this lullaby!" It's so damn beautiful I want to cry just when she's telling me not to. And after settling the listener in sleepy bliss, Helium busts into one of their most inventive rockers to date. "The Revolution of Hearts" employs finger tapping, that noodly trick Eddie Van Halen used to use in every solo. This part alternates with that familar sparse marchy riff, only here it's been molded into something resembling medieval chamber music. Finally, as Timony expresses her hope that "love will set us free," Helium liberates the tapping into an all-out guitar and bass duet, complete with cycles of poppy chants and ambient noise.

Other gems include "Devil's Tear," a strange clash of bubble gum pop and eerie acoustic guitar work, and "Clementine," a tune where a drony keyboard and Timony's voice weep in unison. There are some weaker moments on the album, like "Walk Away" and bass player Ash Bowie's solo contribution, "Medieval People." The former sounds like an uninspired tune from Pirate Prude. The latter is a cute techno number that perhaps would have shined on the piss-poor album just released by Bowie's other band, Polvo.

Despite these minor weaknesses, Helium upholds their reputation for putting out remarkably cohesive albums. This time around, the band is doing much more than just rocking out. Like the releases of timeless contemporary musicians like Tom Waits and David Bowie, The Magic City shows a band honing the art of creative songcraft that entertains the listener. Mary Timony and Ash Bowie might not be ready to be placed alongside those greats, but this album certainly distances Helium from the growing list of Matador stars, like Pavement and Guided by Voices, who are fading into irrelevance. Perhaps Helium is simply proving that playing guitar pop doesn't mean recycling mediocre versions of music from five years ago. (Matador)

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