Like their Canadian brethren and Arts & Crafts
labelmates Broken Social Club, The Most Serene Republic craft emotional,
heavily orchestrated indie rock born from a communal
take on music-making. The Toronto sextet — five parts
male, one part female — recall such other musical
collectives as Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire,
but on this, their debut album, they prove they have
enough unique talent to succeed on their own, trend or no trend. Underwater
Cinematographer swims
in multiple happenings, submersed in building, often
urgent noise, from piano to viola to guitar. But it's
the conviction and passion within the singing — both
male and female — that wins me over in the end. The
brooding arrangements are clever, even complex at
times, but are distinguished from the rest by the
heart and soul so obviously sacrificed for the music.
"Proposition 61," one
of the album's quirkier cuts for its playful claps and
snaps alongside sad strings, builds
from near-whispered vocals to repeated shouts of "She
took a sad song/ Made it better" (a Beatles reference, of course). The energetic
"Where Cedar Nouns and Adverbs Walk" crashes and
bashes and rallies: "I think/ We all know the words,"
the group sings in unison again and again. "King
of No One" is a lounge-y, shuffling song that you
might hear in a martini bar or on an ocean cruise;
"In Places, Empty Spaces" glides on sparkling
electronics and distant, bittersweet wails. The Most
Serene Republic are born from the same ideals as their
Canadian counterparts, meaning they don't sound all
that unlike them, but they insert enough
individuality to stand alone and strong.
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