I'm not sure what makes the Walkmen a great band. They just are one. Maybe it's the half-drunk vocals of Hamilton Leithauser, alternating between crooning and yelling. Maybe it's the seemingly effortless strumming of guitarist Paul Maroon. Maybe it's the idiosyncratic time-keeping done by drummer Matt Barrick. Or maybe it's just the horns.
Okay, now I know. They're a great band because they combine all of these elements to create a retro-cool sound, one they introduced on 2008's stellar You and Me and continue on Lisbon, their latest release. Like any Walkmen album, it effectively combines guitar freakouts and muted ballads, and the frequent changes of pace make for a very engaging listen. They rev the engines pretty quickly on Lisbon with second track "Angela Surf City," arguably the disc's finest moment. An instant Walkmen classic, it features one of the most awe-inspiring choruses I've ever laid my ears on. Leithauser pushes his voice box to its absolute limit and the rest of the band follows suit, with Barrick drumming like a madman and the bass undulating like waves during a tropical storm. "Angela's" only problem is that it's only three minutes and twenty-three seconds in length.
A second highlight comes a few tracks later with "Stranded," a heartbreaking drunken lament. "The words aren't coming through," bawls Leithauser, "I'm stranded and starry-eyed." Remember that song by the Airborne Toxic Event where the guy got drunk and whined because he wanted to bang his ex-girlfriend? The Walkmen took that scenario and made a song that's actually good. It's about being drunk and it SOUNDS drunk, as Barrick barely keeps the thing together with his kick drum. And then there's the horns, horns that add to the barroom sway and evoke images of lonely drunk dudes rejoicing in the fact that they won't be taking any girls home tonight.
The record carries on with the infectious "Woe is Me," vibrant guitar pop that may even provoke some booty shakin', and "Torch Song," the old-timiest Walkmen cut of 'em all. Second to last is "While I Shovel The Snow," a ballad that sounds softer than, well, falling snow. "Half of my life I've been waking up," sings Ham. I feel ya dude.
And like all of the albums before it, this one ends with a slow-burner that goes on for miles. Sporting a six-minute running time and a few horn flareups, "Lisbon" doesn't disappoint and can be placed right next to other satisfying album closers like "Bows and Arrows" and "Another One Goes By."
While not a huge departure from their last album, Lisbon does succeed in maintaining the Walkmen's winning formula. If it ain't broke don't fix it, right?
