If you’ve any idea of this writer’s tastes, you’ll know anything remotely associated with ‘Emo’ is liable to bring him out in spots at the sound of the first whiny chorus. Check out the ever-expanding W&H archive and you’ll find derisory reviews of everyone from Jimmy Eat World to Less Than Jake and all points in between. Indeed, if you’re looking for this writer to ‘big up’ anything remotely resembling Emo, then the buck pretty much stops at All-American Rejects and (grudgingly) a couple of Brand New singles over the past three years.
So it may come as something of a surprise to find Chris Carrabba’s burgeoning superstars DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL being added to this writer’s ‘honourable exceptions’ list when Emo’s war crimes are considered. Yet on the basis of new album “Dusk & Summer” it’s a fully-deserved exemption. For the time being at least.
OK, so it helps that the 2.5 units the previous DC album “A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar” shifted has ensured Carrabba and co. now have the clout to link up with dreadnought-size sonic enhancers such as mixing engineer extraordinaire Andy Wallace (Jeff Buckley, Nirvana) and U2 producer Daniel Lanois, but – even allowing for this duo’s abilities to perform exemplary turd-buffing audio miracles – it’s a testament to the durability of Carrabba’s skills as a song-writer that the material is already in place for the maestros to tinker to their collective heart’s content.
Indeed, even a cursory listen to “Dusk & Summer” shows just how far Carrabba has come since those early lo-fi acoustic songs. These are big, bold work-outs, presented at the peak of sonic perfection and played by a well-drilled band who has got right behind Carrabba’s typically soppy, but crucially superior frat-boy songs of first loves, stolen embraces and hearts terminally crushed. Until the next love of his life comes along, of course.
Opener “Don’t Wait” gives you a pretty good idea of what to expect. It’s quintessential, yearning Emo-fied indie/ alt.rock: all slow-burning guitars, reaching choruses and “oh-oh-oh”s shouted from a cliff top a mile away. Wallace’s mix is dense and impressive, while Lanois and Don Gilmore coax the first of many thrusting, emotional vocal deliveries from Carrabba. At this stage, you probably don’t need me to add that it’s the first of a healthy quota of tunes here which will probably blow radio right apart, but sometimes there’s no harm in stating the obvious, right?
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Inevitably, much of it continues on in the same vein. Tracks like “The Secret’s In The Telling”, “Reason To Believe” and “Rooftops & Invitations” represent the album’s riffier, rocky wing and come with the de rigeur crystalline choruses every bit as full-blown as you’d expect, while the likes of “Stolen” and “Currents” are the wistful, breathy counterparts which will clean up in stadiums throughout the States during the course of the next 12 months. Naturally, there’s also a space cleared for the melting, piano’n’strings number, which is delivered gracefully courtesy of “So Long, So Long,” and comes with a guest vocal from a surprisingly dignified Adam Duritz to boot.
OK, it threatens to sag a tad towards the end when the weirdo loops and keyboards of “Heaven’s Here” fail to mask the fact that – for once – Carrabba actually hasn’t got much going on to begin with, while - ironically - the title track’s sparse acoustics are merely diverting, but little else. Sensibly, though, Carrabba has the excellent “Vindicated” in reserve to check the slide and go out on a high. It’s the sound of perfectly-struck shimmering guitars and couches a lyric where Carrabba notes “I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself”. Indeed, if this is the sound of one of the US’s post-slacker generation actually admitting he quite likes himself, well that makes a refreshing change.
Then again, what has Chris Carrabba really got to complain about? “Dusk & Summer” will do nothing to halt his apparently unstoppable slide into the big league and significant chunks of it are set to blare uncontrollably from radios near us all over the next year. Ordinarily, such a prognosis would be enough to make this reviewer eat neat pig slurry where the Emo brigade are concerned, but if there’s such a thing as the DIY boy made MTV superstar, then surely Chris Carrabba is it. And, for now anyway, I can only sing his praises
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