Best Album of 2012

Am I back?  Nah, probably not.  But I figured I’d blow the dust off ye olde GimDang to name the Album of the Year.

The Walkmen, Heaven
The seventh album from NY-based, DC-born band The Walkmen is a confident statement of purpose, a resounding declaration of independence, and a clear indication of the group’s mind state.  Heaven shows that America’s venerable statesmen of indie rock, active since the year 2000, are comfortable in their skin, wearing their hearts on their sleeves and their age like a badge of honor.

Conspicuously present are guitarist Paul Maroon’s now-signature chiming guitar tones, drummer Matt Barrick’s creative patterns full of tambourine and tom fills, and multi-instrumentalist Walter Martin’s (or Peter Bauer’s -- they trade bass and organ duties) atmospheric organ stabs.  Refreshingly, the whole thing sounds as if it were recorded live, with little overdubbing.  I can’t be certain whether or not this is the case but, it wouldn’t surprise me; the accomplished band is known to turn in fantastic live sets and has been playing together long enough to really establish a tight connection.

Perhaps most notable is how focused an effort the album is.  Where past material sometimes felt disjointed, like jagged puzzle pieces jammed together, Heaven presents a prettier picture.  “Song For Leigh” comes across as a fully formed, developed idea, one that the band who recorded “Revenge Wears No Wristwatch” in 2002 wouldn’t even try to attempt.

What’s more, the album presents a more grown-up, composed Walkmen.  Wait -- can it be true?  Have The Walkmen really come of age?  The opening song, “We Can’t Be Beat,” confidently affirms, setting the tone with subtle instrumentation (an acoustic guitar!) and a line that signals this sense of arrival: “It’s been so long / but I made it through.”  Halfway through the set, “Line By Line” reminds listeners that ‘the wicked will die, the honest man survives’ and that yes, “we all scrape by.”  Though the band’s old cynical distrust creeps in on “The Love You Love,” the Be-My-Baby-sounding “Heartbreaker” reinforces the album’s emerging theme and asserts “these are the good years / the best we’ll ever know.”

Seeming reflective, even contented, Heaven finds The Walkmen treading fairly new ground.  Case in point, the photos printed on the inside of the cover show the members of the band posing with their children.  Indeed, the tone and content of this album is more mature, more assured, more accepting than previous releases.  Gone is the howling Hamilton Leithauser of 2008’s “In The New Year,” gone is the angry, accusing protagonist of 2004’s “The Rat.” 

The lyrics on the title track speak to this newfound, or at least newly-realized, maturity.  Over a comfortably driving jangle, Leithauser looks back and sings “you’re my best friend / all of my life, you’ve always been.”  It’s like the band, young-ish as they may be, are finally ready to look inward, to draw their kin closer, to accept their heretofore-rejected nostalgia and settle into adulthood.  And adulthood, I should add, suits The Walkmen very well.