Air Guitar
Reviewed by: Max Miller
Let’s get one thing straight: Rock music no longer dominates the pop landscape. It doesn’t even come in at a distant third. So while there are still plenty of artists making good, even vital rock ‘n’ roll, the genre, from a societal impact standpoint, has much more in common with jazz and classical music than it does electronic music and rap. This is what I mean when I say rock is “dead.” And in some ways, dying has been the best thing to happen to rock, forcing artists in this post-rock musical landscape to find new ways to innovate now that they’re free of the constraints of pop scrutiny. There are those, like The War On Drugs or Tame Impala, who make self-serious records which co-opt some modern electronic touches alongside heaping doses of nostalgia. And then there are bands like Sat. Nite Duets.
The Milwaukee six-piece treats rock ‘n’ roll like the relative who insists that their funeral should be a party celebrating their life instead of a solemn ceremony lamenting their death. On Air Guitar, Sat. Nite Duets’ fourth full-length, the band offer up a raucous bunch of songs which often confront the absurdity of making rock music in 2016. Opener “Attached to the Lamp” illustrates how being in a touring indie rock band can feel liberating and yet feel like a comically Sisyphean ordeal (“Maybe we can go back to Cleveland and play for the sound guy and the other band / And the opening act got picked up by his dad / It’s happened before, it’ll happen again.”). “Sober June” and “The Last Beer of My Music Career” address the unsustainable boozing that so often accompanies the musical lifestyle. The band do little to hide their love of classic rock, creating weird mash-up moments like on “Annie’s X,” where lyrics from Warren Zevon’s “French Inhaler” are sung in a voice reminiscent of Lou Reed gone country.
Air Guitar also features a couple of surprisingly vulnerable cuts. Sat. Nite Duets have snuck in some more serious songs in the past, like “Chiller Pastures” on Summer Of Punishment or “My Novel” on Electric Manland, but nothing they’ve done quite rivals the pristine “Two Birds,” which features a tenderly-sung melody and sparse acoustic instrumentation that culminates in a dramatic saxophone solo. And then there’s “Deep Peace,” the album’s penultimate track, which pairs a hazy vocal mantra with propulsive Krautrock-inspired drumming.
For the most part, though, Sat. Nite Duets keep things loose and fun. The tongue-in-cheek “St. Yuppie” features a voiceover that says, “Everybody, everybody, everybody, everybody knows your problems are bad, but your solutions are much worse / So check a sick solo.” The solo that follows is, indeed, sick. “Country Worm” is a minute-and-a-half-long honky-tonk barnstormer, which tips its ten-gallon hat at Sat. Nite Duets’ own “Big Worm,” complete with goofy lyrics and a jug part (“Lisa, never ever stop in the middle of a hoedown!”).
As a band who were clearly influenced by the likes of Pavement and other indie rock bands who traded in irony, it’s refreshing to see Sat. Nite Duets continually distinguish themselves from their influences through their uniquely charming sense of humor. On “TAFKA Salieri,” Stephen Strupp says “people used to call [him] Salieri, but it’s been awhile.” Salieri, or at least the fictionalized version of him popularized by Amadeus, could never escape Mozart’s shadow. Maybe you could have once written off Sat. Nite Duets as yet another young band ripping off indie rock tropes. But with rock only growing deader, they’ve proven that combining familiar touchstones cleverly and lovingly can be the best way to forge a unique sound. Sat. Nite Duets are dancing on rock’s grave, ‘cause they’ve got no soul to save.
Rating: Bad-Ass
