"We've been married for exactly one year; I want to celebrate, but I'm totally baroque."*
Nightingale, the first full-length release from Omaha's Anniversaire, is an immediately stunning, yet densely layered work of baroque-pop. Making your record at ARC Studios and having it mastered by Doug van Sloun never hurts, of course. But even without the crisp, glistening production, these songs stand up beautifully on their own.
Orchestral elements popping up in indie-rock is nothing new — folk and rock acts have been incorporating strings and horns for years, and the trend doesn't seem to be fading. But even on the occasions when these elements add greatly to the music, they're usually invoked as a one-off for the purpose of changing up the pop-song dynamic. Unlike almost any other band I've heard, Anniversaire has managed to blend these elements with their pop music meaningfully and seamlessly. They're not just using instruments associated with classical music — they're actually playing a gorgeous, melodic brand of classical music. Within the genre of baroque-pop, they are decidedly more baroque than pop.
Their bio mentions vocalist/lyricist/multi-instrumentalist Aaron Jordan's orchestral background, and this becomes apparent seconds into the lead track, "Cecilia, You Saint." On this song and throughout, every musician knows his or her place, and never oversteps his or her boundaries. Unlike most rock bands, where everyone is playing almost all the time, Anniversaire's members are conservative with their notes, and avoid superfluous sounds altogether.
Nightingale shares another feature of classical music: exponentially increasing returns. Upon the first few listens of this record, I was consistently amazed at the precise musicianship, the interesting and unconventional arrangements, the delicate vocals, and the immaculately positioned poetic lyrics. But I also felt a bit over-inundated. "OK, I see what you did there, Anniversaire — let's switch it up a little. Bring on the Snow guest verse**." But on repeat listens, the album (which is a cohesive musical movement, rather than a collection of relatively cohesive but definitely separate songs) begins to reveal its shape. Varying dynamics (as on the rowdier, almost punk "Gossamer"), different instruments (horns, glockenspiel, Rhodes piano), and intentionally recurring musical and lyrical themes begin to emerge.
And this gives us a reason to keep on listening. Sure, "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus was 100 percent awesome the first time we heard it, but it will become less and less awesome upon each successive listen (maybe?), until we're no longer even considering it for our jump rope tournament playlist. This is not so with Nightingale. While it is also often catchier than all hell, it is much more like a bottle of single-malt Scotch that becomes increasingly defined and clarified with each dram. Or, perhaps, Nightingale is the musical equivalent of a Magic-Eye poster: At first it looks like a strange multicolored pattern, but as you gaze into its captivating swirls of green, purple and blue, a tidal wave of truth overtakes your every molecule. Things that seemed uniform at first are now displaying their nuanced topography. For the first time, you see that it's not merely a poster — it's a dinosaur being chased by another dinosaur! And also, it's playing the trombone! Who paid for trombone lessons for this poster?
If Anniversaire continue to capitalize on their immense talent and momentum, they'll no doubt be traveling the world one day, leaving crowds in awe and a devastating trail of woodwind reeds in their wake.
*zing
**Author's note: Sno is not currently active in the Nebraska music scene… yet.
