New Real Estate album lacks depth

By Benjamin Huber-Rodriguez     4/1/14 4:43pm

“And the only thing that really matter is the one thing I can’t seem to do,” vocalist and lyricist Martin Courtney sings on “Talking Backward,” the third song off New Jersey-based jangly, indie-pop band Real Estate’s third LP, Atlas. Although the track gives some insight into his emotional dilemma, there is the ever-present sense that we are missing something. If this was a 60s-pop lyric, we would safely assume the “one thing” is to say is “I love you,” but Real Estate always leaves the listener feeling a bit unsure, partly because Courtney uses words so sparingly, but also because the eternally sunny, bright landscape created by Real Estate’s trademark trebly, wavering guitar lines always seems to cloak even the darkest lyrics in radiant light.

Take the complacent album closer “Pavement,” where Courtney asks an unknown friend to wait for him, saying “meet you where the pavement ends.” Is this a familiar place, where Courtney and his friend have spent long days together? Is it nostalgia for the blissful ignorance of childhood? Or perhaps it is the afterlife. This deceptively simple line captures the album’s foremost, albeit largely-implied and frustratingly vague, theme: exterior optimism and happiness hiding interior doubt, longing and remorse. Amazingly, this same logic applies to Real Estate’s sonics. The familiar chord changes, easy strumming, one-level dynamics and never-ending guitar lines make the songs sound easy and light, but after a few spins, those same jolly riffs seem to take on eerie overtones, like carnival music slowly going out of tune.

Real Estate’s arc has been that of the typical critical indie darling. Each of their three albums has been widely praised, and two of their members have spawned side projects: guitarist Matt Mondanile’s similar psychedelic-pop band Ducktails and bassist Alex Bleeker’s group, Alex Bleeker and The Freaks. Unlike similarly paced groups, however, such as Vampire Weekend or Beach House, Real Estate’s songwriting has failed to achieve any kind of notable progression. Any of these songs could easily find a home on one of the group’s first two records. But Real Estate’s sound is one that is unique to them, and because they do it so perfectly, critics and listeners alike seem to never tire of their sun-drenched licks and lilting, chilled-out lyrics.

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The serenity promised by a Real Estate record makes them a reliable purchase for those looking for a CD to jam to on beach trips and around campfires. The serenity combined with the subtlety and mystery present in the lyrics gain Real Estate the following of both easy and deep listeners alike. Atlas, in particular, is a remarkably consistent record. With no track standing out sonically, the only hiccup is the change in lead vocals to Bleeker on “How Might I Live.” Each track could be the album’s deepest cut, depending on who you are and what you glean from the sparse, metaphorical lyrics. Mortality is contemplated on “Crime,” while the feeling of growing apart from one’s hometown and returning to an alien place is explored on “Past Lives.” I particularly enjoy the line “I cannot go back to this neighborhood without feeling my own age.”

The beauty of Atlas lies in its uncanny ability to be easy and difficult at the same time. If you need a soundtrack to melt away your summer trips, you could not do much better. But if you spend hours alone with the record, trying to extract the stories that inspired Courtney’s misleading and lonesome lyrics, you will likely walk away no more knowledge than the guy throwing back a Corona in his college quad with Atlas on repeat. If you already love Real Estate or any kind of easygoing, guitar-driven chillwave in general, you will not be disappointed. But if you are looking for the kind of life lessons, introspective realizations and resonant stories many of us seek out in our musical choices, Atlas will leave you drifting among the waves.

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