From the very second I finished listening to The Lees Of Memory’s new album Moon Shot, I knew I wanted to write about it. But my heart was so full of love I didn’t know where to start.
Like most of the country this year, I haven’t been well. I eat a lot of junk food, don’t sleep much, and pretty much keep to myself. Whether or not COVID19 and Illinois’s state-wide stay at home order have anything to do with it, being alone feels like the best decision. Theoretically one would think that would be ample time to consume media. But even that has been somewhat of a chore. I’ve traded books for horror movie marathons and my vinyl collection has collected dust.
Of course, this has little to do with the year’s musical output. I’ve enjoyed plenty of music this year. But sharing musical critique as the world crumbles around you just doesn’t sit well with me. There’s even a strange sense of guilt that comes with enjoyment too. People are dying, protesting, rioting, screaming for justice, do you really want to hear me talk about a record I enjoy? But I suppose that mindset is merely an excuse for laziness. Most of us are in a funk.
You may be asking what does my mental health have to do a rock record? The answer: Everything.
The Lees Of Memory has been my favorite band since, well, since before they were officially a band. When Superdrag called it quits, guitarist Brandon Fisher and founder, multi-instrumentalist John Davis teamed up with Slack drummer Nick Slack and formed The Lees. They released a few demos online, a 7 inch on Velocity Of Sound, and eventually an LP with SideOneDummy. What began as a shoegaze pet project soon blossomed into a full-fledged artistic outlet with albums produced by Mike Purcell and Grammy Award-winning Nick Raskulinecz.
The most interesting aspect of The Lees Of Memory is their ability to reinvent themselves with each release. It’s not so much evolution but what comes by constantly moving forward. From the My Bloody Valentine-esque vibes Sisyphus Says, raga-rock of Unnecessary Evil, to the Beatles-meets-Big Star aesthetic of The Blinding White Of Nothing At All, The Lees are defined by progression. I already knew Moon Shot would be an interesting trip before hearing the first note.
Make no mistake, The Lees Of Memory wear many hats but there’s still a thread of consistency throughout each album. Moon Shot is no exception.
Opening with “Lonely Everywhere” and acting as Moon Shot‘s unofficial lead single, Davis and co. offer up the sugar-coated harmonies and wall of guitars Superdrag were known for. But lyrically things take a despondent turn. Instead of the usual poetic enlightenment of the last record, Moon Shot instantaneously boasts an all-knowing concept of sadness. The wash of guitars, thunderous percussion, and Bob Pollard-meets-Bob Mould arrangements accentuate that sadness. Even with the brightest hooks found in “The Wheel” and “Free & Easy” have an underlying melancholy motif.
Despite the primary focus on playing to their strengths, The Lees manage to flex their experimental side. “Live Without” borders on New Wave punk sounding like Blondie and The Descendents joining forces. “Drift Into A Dream” starts likes Teenage Fanclub but breaks into the greatest vocal bridge Brian Wilson didn’t arrange. The album even closes with the surprisingly, Prince flavored “Far Beyond”, by far the most purple thing Davis has ever recorded.
But for me, it was “Crocodile Tears” that really clicked. The arrangement, the hook, and the lyrics put everything into crystal clear focus.
The radio might help when you feel blue, that’s what rock n’ roll’s supposed to do. The records lift me up when I can’t move, that’s what rock n’ roll’s supposed to prove.
Davis screams in the chorus as if he’s both crying out for help and claiming victory. On the surface, it sounds like a throw-away line on any power-pop record. However, its the conviction in the vocals and melancholy outro that hits it out of the park. It tells me Davis, Fisher, and Slack aren’t just utilizing The Lees as a creative outlet but maybe it’s literally keeping them going too?
It could be argued a song about the healing powers of music is a little romantic and on the nose in today’s civil climate. But what good is any music (or art) if it doesn’t mentally replenish the listener in some way? Moon Shot reminds me there is still some good in the world if I look close enough.
Leaders, politicians, the justice system, healthcare, and even friends and family can fail you, but the music won’t.
Planting flowers and hugging your neighbor may not put an end civil unrest, cure diseases, or make good on the country’s injustice. But I’m a firm believer a good record can ease my mind at least for 45 minutes. Long enough to mentally and spiritually recharge to face the small issues in my life, in turn making the big ones a little easier to handle. To that, I say Moon Shot knocks it out of the park and I’m grateful for yet another classic album from The Lees Of Memory.
Moon Shot is available now on all formats at Bandcamp.