by Allison Roberts
Managing editor
“The Peace of Wild Things,” Paper Route’s second album, was released on Sept. 11 this year despite obstacles faced by the band over the past couple of years.
A band similar to Mutemath and other electronic indie bands, Paper Route received positive reviews from critics and blew my mind with its debut album “Absence” in 2009. After giving its successor “Wild Things” nearly 40 listens over the past week, I can say with confidence that it does not disappoint.
The album continues the band’s electronic indie pop sound and contains more songs that dig into painful subjects for the musicians. The personal issues referenced in their lyrics are more than rhetoric, however, as the band members have recently faced difficulties with cancer, record label issues and divorce.
Weaved in with its upbeat-sounding, synthesized beats, the album’s lyrics are both mournful and optimistic. The resulting contrast is haunting.
One of the best examples of this lyrical juxtaposition is the album’s first single, “Better Life,” which was released in November of 2011. The verses’ lyrics speak of loss from a dissolved relationship while the chorus repeats the hopeful line, “a better life is waiting.
This track, like many of the band’s, pulses with fast-paced synth rhythms behind frontman J.T. Daly’s echoing vocals and stands out from other songs on the album with its clapping drum beats.
The most interesting beat on the album, however, is the bass heartbeat of the anthem “Glass Heart Hymn,” a song most memorable to me from the feeling of absolution I get from listening to it rather than from the lyrics alone.
My favorite track from the album, it is a meaningful song with a powerful chorus that leaves me feeling hopeful despite some lyrics referencing abandonment by God.
It is also not the only song that features Paper Route’s understated but significant spiritual lyrics. Daly said in an interview with Relevant Magazine that Paper Route doesn’t label itself as a Christian band, which I think should keep nonreligious people from shying away from their music.
The album’s closing song, “Calm My Soul,” for example, is arguably a plea for God-granted peace. Still, with its grand folky sound similar to the music of Mumford and Sons, I can’t imagine someone being unmoved or unimpressed by this song, religious or not.
Many of the album’s other tracks are somewhat ambiguous love songs. “Sugar,” for example, is a sorrowful yet sweet piano ballad of admitting wrong and pleading, “Take me back/take me home/you were right all along/you are where I belong” in the chorus.
It resonates with me as a song from one person to another, but it could easily be interpreted as a song to a higher power.
The band’s knack for contrasting sound and lyrics, a quality continued from “Absence,” is perhaps best showcased in the short ballad featuring singer Cacie Dalager from the band Now, Now. It features one of the most regretful sounding melodies I’ve ever heard, yet the lyrics encourage continued happiness.
Lyrical contradiction to sound is a trait that draws me to so much independently produced music.
When major record labels aren’t forcing musicians to spoon-feed obvious song meanings to listeners, true artistry can often be achieved.
I interpret this to be among the reasons Daly said in an interview with hypebot.com that the band left Universal’s label and directly hired its production team for “Wild Things.”
Though the band as a whole struggled to get this album released while its members faced serious personal obstacles, “Wild Things” is the best album I have heard in years and one I highly recommend to any fan of electronic indie music.