Peter Bjorn and John Living Thing Rating: 5.9 Label: Wichita Records Release: March 31, 2009

Poor John.

The author of the percussion lead-in to 2006’s ubiquitous hit “Young Folks,” and one-third of Sweden’s Peter Bjorn and John, is missing. His maracas, tom toms and loose snare that provide the backbone for the trio’s infectious melodies are all absent from their 4^th (5^th?) LP, Living Thing. He’s been replaced, you see. By a drum machine.

Foot-tapping percussion and equally catchy (yet simple) melodies have always driven their infectious brand of pop. It’s what makes this kind of music enjoyable; the saddest lyrics in the world can put a smile on your face if you’re dancing along. But the new percussion sound PB&J are working with sounds so inorganic, so unfamiliar, and has a new-found frigidity that clashes with everything that made them enjoyable to begin with.

They’ve dipped further into the well of melancholy, and the frowns don’t suit them. Only four of the album’s tracks can be considered even moderately uptempo, and the slower their pace gets, the more boring the music seems. They’re not slowly building to mind-splitting crescendos a la Codeine–rather, they limp across most of the album, the drums and synths sounding unbearably lifeless and cold. The electronic components on their arrangements are way too sparse, and the slow tracks like “Just The Past” sound terribly flat and processed. They have been able to create a much fuller sound with less effort on their previous releases (see “Objects of My Affection” on Writer’s Block for further evidence), but that could merely be a product of their inexperience with digital instruments.

PB&J’s stab at the slow jam is admirable. But unlike Germany’s The Whitest Boy Alive, who seem to have a firm grip on mid-tempo minimalism, PB&J lack the Berlin foursome’s funk influences and bass lines that ooze over every track of their latest release, Rules. And as cuddly as Peter Bjorn and John are, crooners they are not. They simply don’t have enough “black” music influences to consistently make danceable slow jams, something Sasha Frere-Jones alludes to in his 2007 New Yorker piece “A Paler Shade of White.”

Yet scattered throughout Living Thing are little moments of excessive charm. They remind you even though Peter maybe in danger of going electro, they can still write an annoyingly catchy pop song.

“Nothing to Worry About,” Living Thing’s first single, has a (now obligatory) child chorus, a high-pitched breathy monstrosity that seems destined for private back rooms at karaoke bars. But the percussion-driven track features contributions from woodblocks and steelpan drums, providing hope that they haven’t ditched their analog roots completely. “There’s what are called steelpan players in the streets,” Bjorn told Pitchfork in 2007. “We figured, that’s a cool sound to bring into pop music. No one really has that. Well, the Knife used a synthesized steelpan. But we used the real thing.”

Even more interesting than the ode to buskers and street performers is the accompanying video, a mini-doc of sorts on Japan’s rockabilly “gang” subculture. They make a more direct appeal to the aggro gang mentality later in the album, acting out their own version of Jets vs. Sharks on the excellent “Lay it Down.” The hand-clapping, finger-snapping fight anthem might sound a bit corny through Peter’s signature whine, but it’s catchy enough to happily ignore this fact and bob your head along anyway.

The most distinctive moment on the album is also its finest. From the opening thunder of the piano on “It Don’t Move Me,” PB&J set a dangerously high precedent for the rest of the album that they never live up to. Despite the processed sounds of the snare and hand claps, the beat is catchy; and when the piano storms in, it contrasts beautifully with the loping echoed guitar notes. The bass line is still sparse, but John proves he isn’t dead—whether behind a kit or a Roland, his percussion carries the track.

Rare high notes aside, the overwhelming majority of Living Thing is painfully slow. The trio flirts with being interesting at times, with the boooooing-y synth on “Living Thing” and the sitar on “4 out of 5.” They sound blue, and bring it to a literal context on “Blue Period Picasso.”

On their Matrix-like cover art, matter is seemingly constructed of its corresponding words and letters. But the dark hues and somber blue tones hint at the colder, darker direction the band has taken. Though while Living Thing may have more misses than hits, it would be unwise to count the Swedes out just yet.

Related article: Peter Bjorn and John – Nothing to Worry About [Video Review]

Written by: Matthew Ismael Ruiz on March 31st, 2009 | Filed under Music Reviews