Rock Cridick: Contra by Vampire Weekend

It's difficult to review an album that immediately turns your stomach within the first few words uttered.  In fact, who knew the English language could trigger such recoil?  Maybe it has something to do with the words horchata and balaclava being used in consecutive lines as the rhyming convention that managed to push the right buttons.  Unfortunately, the maddening effect that Contra has on the mind of the listener is not pacified once you finally manage to escape the evil clutches of this kind of Ivy-League-family-ski-trip discourse.

Perhaps what Vampire Weekend does best on Contra is to answer the following question: What would it be like if Zimbabwe were in affluent country filled with Starbucks', J. Crews, and maybe a few nice spots to grab some brunch?  Well, the rhythms would apparently still pulse, albeit in a more electric fashion, and the lyrical inspiration would more likely to take place at say, an art museum rather than by the Zambezi.

The music itself is about as bombastic as the film 300, and for the most part, just as authentic.  Sure, the costumes and set designs suggest that this is truly ancient Sparta, but why are they speaking with British accents?  And for what Vampire Weekend lacks in authenticity, they surely make up for in enthusiasm. For the music is quite infectious, and the copped African rhythms surely serve their purpose in making Contra a wonderfully breezy and fun album, so long as you can ignore the ever-so obvious guitar flourishes that clash and puzzle like a Xerxes with a Mexican accent.

In fact, Vampire Weekend is truly at their best, when they drop pseudo-World act and get down to basic songwriting.  Tracks such as "Taxi Cab" and "Giving up the Gun" find a more reserved, perhaps more mature band, delivering their lyrics direct to the listener, allowing for a more accessible, earnest melody, minus the distractingly high-pitched vocal shrills, odd-time signatures, and overly-quirked guitar that send you off into a desperate search for your Graceland LP.  Because the band clearly has chops, they just don't need to show them off on every song.  This is the same kind of wankery that gets most jambands into trouble, yet somehow earns Vampire Weekend accolades.

Ultimately, Contra is an exuberant expression of young band that has so many things to say, but one that just does not yet know how to say them.  While idiosyncratic vocal delivery has surely gained favor with many music reviewers, it still does not seem to be the best mode of transmission, for at times frontman Ezra Koenig's melodic presentation often appears to resemble the attempts of a grade schooler trying to cram has many words as possible onto the final line of his notepad to avoid spilling over on the backside of the page.  Cute, but sloppy.  Perhaps in time the boys will find a path toward the succinct and away from the borrowed.  Until then, Vampire Weekend remains a fun, yet temporal band, lurking around the main stage at festivals and beach house parties, yet ultimately at the bottom of the record shelf a few months later.