The Antlers - Hospice: Album Review
American Alternative Music Turns Tragedy into Triumph
Oct 30, 2009
In 2004, Arcade Fire released Funeral. It was an album that was influenced by elements from the Canadian indie scene, pioneered by the joyful ‘kitchen-sink-and-all’ collective Broken Social Scene, improved it and gave it a sinister, morbid twist. With Hospice, The Antlers have done something similar in Brooklyn.
Brooklyn Music
Originally the solo bedroom project of lead-man Peter Silberman, The Antlers are now a complete three-piece indie outfit who have created a dark and eerie work of art that stands out in a Brooklyn landscape dominated by indie pop intellectuals Vampire Weekend, psychedelic scenesters MGMT and the superlative genre-defying TV On The Radio. All these bands have, in the past year, bought out critically acclaimed albums that sounded jubilant, playful and, more importantly, optimistic. Hospice is a reality check.
Silberman’s lyrics, however, do not wallow in global doom and gloom. Instead, much akin to Arcade Fire’s Funeral, this melancholy derives from a much more personal form of grief and sorrow. You can probably guess from the album title that its concept is engulfed in the heartache felt for a person suffering from terminal illness.
Dark Lyrics
The lyrics remain dark throughout and tell a story of the fear and anxiety caused by watching a loved one in pain. In the song ‘Kettering’, Silberman introduces us to the patient and the hospice; “Walking in that room when you had tubes in your arms, those singing morphine alarms out of tune kept you sleeping…You made me sleep and uneven, and I didn’t believe them when they told me that there was no saving you.” Suddenly cathartic guitar noise and subtle electronic bleeping punctures the tracks previous piano-driven placidity and it becomes clear that Hospice won’t be easy listening.
Some tracks verge on anthem-worthy. Introspective brittle verses are broken up by contrastingly loud guitar choruses are accompanied by uplifting trumpet ensembles that are just made to be sung or screamed at the top of your voice. Or at least they would be until you realise that you’re singing, “Sylvia, get your head out of the oven”.
Sad Poetry
The sadness generated in this album is not just from the mourning of a dying loved one, although obviously a great deal is, but also there are huge doses of self-deprecation and regret. In the song ‘Atrophy’, Silberman delivers the genuinely believable melancholic line, “In your dreams I’m a criminal, horrible, sleeping around. While you’re awake I’m impossible, constantly letting you down.”
Throughout the album there are references to the sufferers hate for the albums protagonist, or narrative voice, but there is also love in every song signified by the fact that the person remains there until the bitter end. The cover epitomises this disconnected relationship within the album; as two hands grasp towards each other, the two are always together, yet always apart.
Silberman’s vocal display is often low-key, most of the lines are delivered with a whisper. This makes you almost have to eavesdrop in order to hear the lyrics, making listening to the album almost an intrusion into the privacy of personal misery.
Haunted Music
Hospice is about life and death, love and hate, quietness and noise. The sheer cathartic choral release of the albums two stand out tracks ‘Sylvia’ and ‘Bear’ display an emotional outpouring similar to that seen on Arcade Fire’s Funeral and doesn’t sound to dissimilar either, fans of Cymbals Eat Guitar will also get along with the albums more raucous elements. But I defy anyone to listen to the beautifully simple acoustic ‘Epilogue’ and not shed a tear as Silberman describes waking up in the night and not having the love of his life by his side.
The Antlers have created one of the most personal, heart-braking albums of the decade. Like when Bon Iver retreated to that wood cabin in Wisconsin to mull over the break-up from long-term girlfriend Emma, Silberman withdrew into his Brooklyn bedroom to write his opus for Sylvia. It may not have arrived with the fanfare of a romanticised story that For Emma, Forever Ago came seemingly gift wrapped with, but Hospice’s lyrics are better, the songs have more interesting compositions and the album as an entirety has a tighter, if not more obvious, concept. This album might just haunt you for many years to come. And you’ll never be so pleased to have unearthed its sanctity.
 |
