Step Into the Light with God Save the Clientele

The Clientele, God
Save the Clientele,
Merge [5/8/07]

The Violet Hour (2003) was my first introduction to London’s Clientele. I was instantly smitten. Next I picked up the Suburban Light collection (2001), but took a pass on Strange Geometry (2005). They were starting to sound like a traditional pop band. Before that, the trio, now a quartet with the addition of the lovely Mel Draisey, had been vaguer, hazier—jazzier. There was something effervescent, yet mysterious about their sound. Like another instrument, songwriter/guitarist Alasdair MacLean’s vocals were mixed into the music, an effect I've always found appealing. It brings to mind Spirit of Eden Talk Talk or one of the early Creation bands—Felt or Biff Bang Pow, perhaps.

But on their sophomore outing, MacLean had moved closer to the forefront. Not that I don't enjoy his breezy utterings, but I liked it better when I could only make out snatches of lyrics. It's like eavesdropping on an intriguing conversation. Now I can hear words more distinctly. This works fine for folk-oriented pop, but with dream-pop bands—Lush, Galaxie 500, etc.—I prefer more translucent vocals. What makes them so "dreamy" isn't just the pleasant tone, but the fact that, as if in a dream, everything doesn't make sense. I don't want everything to make sense.

That said, the whispering on “The Dance of the Hours” almost seems like a preemptive response to my concerns. In this case, the music is louder than the vocals, and the vocals are indistinguishable. I haven’t decided whether or not it’s my favorite song on the album, but it does prove that the band realizes exquisite musicianship is one of their biggest strengths.

Like their two previous records, God Save the Clientele is perfectly charming. There’s nothing obviously “wrong” with it (although I feel the pedal steel is overused throughout). A less cynical observer would say the foursome is simply growing and maturing, and that along with greater confidence comes the desire to make themselves heard more clearly. I’m sure that’s true, actually, and it’s not as if they’ve become loud or bombastic. The Clientele remain as subtle and tasteful as ever, but the more they reveal, the less interesting they become. I miss the mystery.

Mostly, I wish this were the first Clientele record I had ever heard. If so, I might love it. Whenever I listen to a new album—or watch a new movie—I try to be as objective as possible. I realize my conclusions are bound to be subjective, but at least I try to remove all preconceptions from my mind before pressing play. In this case, my bias is that I know what the first Clientele album sounds like, and I love it. And I like this recording just fine, but in comparison, it's hard to love.

In the end, you can pretend the past doesn't exist, and attempt evaluate a work of art—of commerce—as if it sprang from thin air, but the attachment to original impressions is often too strong to deny. And I'm not sure it should be—denied, that is. As for God Save the Clientele, I can heartily recommend it to dream-pop adherents near and wide. I just can't recommend it to myself.

Endote: I predict critics will proclaim this the best Clientele record yet, precisely because of the increased clarity. As McLean states, "The ghosts, half-light and uncertainties remain, but I sense a newfound optimism in the music. Perhaps born of new love? Definitely a new era for the Clientele." The more I listen, the more it grows on me. A year from now, I may well join the chorus. The band plays Seattle's Crocodile Café on May 28. Click here to hear them live on KEXP (Nov 26, 2005) and here to stream songs from their Merge recordings. Images from the official Clientele website and their MySpace Page.