Pedro The Lion: Winners Never Quit

Although I probably wouldn't run out and buy Pedro the Lion's second album, Winners Never Quit, if I went to visit my somber Greek-Orthodox aunt (if I had one), I would be delighted to accidentally find a homemade tape of the album lying in the woods beyond her house, chewed on by beavers, but still intact.

Two facts impress themselves on this album: first, David Bazan, lead singer and guitarist, is the band. Pedro the Lion's original four members were hometown friends from Seattle, all of whom left the group after its debut, It's Hard to Find a Friend. Since then, there has been no fixed lineup. This time, almost all the other members learned to play their instruments after they joined. Though they usually do an adequate job of accompanying Bazan, their presence is generally limited to showcasing him. He alternates between two modes: stripped-down, vocals-driven ballads that are too depressed and soporific to be pop yet too poppy to be truly dread-soaked; and over-wrought extravaganzas that flesh out the arrangements, but neglect vocals and lack energy.

Bazan's deeply Christian sentiment is the second thing that I repeatedly notice. Deeply Christian indie rock? How bizarre, right? But Bazan's mixture of grotesque spirituality, earnest lyricism, and hard-hitting criticism of Christianity is strangely appealing in the same way my hypothetical craggy aunt is appealing. The enigmatic "Slow and Steady Wins the Race" is the best example. Bazan lays a simple, haunting acoustic melody underneath a twisted story about his trip to Grandma's house in the woods. He sings: "When I get to heaven/I'll be greeted warmly/Surrounded by the angels/As Jesus takes my hand." This song makes me happy because of its sparse beauty and quirkily honest sensibility. Unfortunately, I cannot speak as well of the remaining songs.

These range from charmingly forgettable indie pop pebbles ("Simple Economics") that I want to skip upon the lake behind my aunt's house, to one or two lush, clamorous prizes that indicate a promising new route for the band ("Bad Things to Such Good People"). By the end of the album, though, I'm wondering why I'm listening to a slower, more dread-full Quasi when I could be listening to Quasi instead. I'm longing for beauty that surprises me or at least tickles me, instead of an album that wants so badly to be poppy and brooding at the same time, and relies mostly on minor-chord melodies and Bazan's authentically grim voice to simulate stillness and sadness. Although I'm glad I listened to it, I'm going to bury it under the leaves for more beavers to gnaw on, while I go hunting for some Quasi. (Jade Tree)

—Bidisha Banerjee

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