Weekend's debut Sports may be the most ironic band name/album title combo in recent memory. They suggest neither relaxation nor athletics, recuperation or camaraderie. It's not until track 3, "Monday Morning," that they level with you what they're really about: a howling, hungover squall, an inchoate wailing after an over-indulgent "weekend," best left forgotten.
Weekend are tipping the needle at the dark end of shoegaze, full of sonic murk and dank reverb. Most of the songs are garagey two-chord jams, but there's something more textured and compelling about their take on stomp-box goth. With songs rendered this simply, little details can mean a lot, like the way the vocals and guitars blend seamlessly into a wordless howl the second half of "Coma Summer", or the double-time drumming at the end of "Youth Haunts"-- it's the classic tension/release formula, but done with the kind of skill that suggests a band well past their debut. And when they drop a bomb, like the delicious female harmonies on "End Times," near the end of the album, well it really means something.
It's interesting to hear where shoegaze gets pushed, now that it's been codified and canonized and we feel safe with what we think is its emotional tenor and range. Weekend-- whose name may be the falsest form of advertising-- have created an album that feels both comfortable, but new, and best of all, true. The name may be a lie, but with music this raw, you have to be completely genuine to pull it off.
[Weekend Myspace]
[Buy Sports from Slumberland Records]
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