Just As Wierdly Wonderful As Ever
When Dallas' The Polyphonic Spree bursts onto the scene five years ago some were scared, some rejoiced whilst the rest of us simply sat bemused and bewildered. Traipsing around in robes that ranged from pure white to multi coloured affairs that looked like they'd been nicked from a production of 'Godspell', the Spree weren't exactly your run of the mill band. Add to this the fact that their numbers fluctuated around the 24 bracket and their incessantly happy outlook and suddenly you weren't sure if your about to be accosted by a cult or hugged to death by a group of hippies. Fast forward five years and three albums down the line (and three labels to boot) and not much has really changed in the Spree's camp. Optimism still shines out of their every orifice and the bigger is better mentality still resides. Look a little closer though and the Dallas act appears to have been disrobed. Gone are their religiously linked attire, replaced with a military look as Tim DeLaughter and crew have seemingly taken a turn for the darker, kitted out in black military combats that suggest that these guys are no longer the optimistic hippies of yesterday but instead revolutionaries about to lead us all into battle. Has the modern world finally turned the Texan's into cynics?
As opening track 'Section 21 (Together We're Heavy) heralds the beginning of the Polyphonic Spree's third album things look as weirdly wonderful as ever as the track vibrantly unearths an almost voyage into space that builds momentum until it collides with 'Section 22 (Running Away)' in such a triumphantly epic style that you'd be forgiven for feeling absolutely exhausted even at this early stage. Melodically harmonious and irresistibly pop laced, 'Section 22 (Running Away)' erases ay doubts that the Spree have lost their sunny outlook. Bursting with optimisn and lined with glee, 'Section 22 (Running Away)' builds on a basic pop structure, adding layer upon layer of vocal harmonies and obscure sounding instruments until you are left with an euphoric chunk of pop rock brilliance, topped with some strategically placed "ba,ba's" at the end to insure even the most cynically black hearted listener will be left with an uncontrollable smile.
After such a promising start 'Section 23 (Get Up And Go)' comes as a slight disappointment, turning down the happy outlook slightly somehow doesn't work on this track and it is left to title track 'Section 24 (The Fragile Army)' to restore order. Audaciously uplifting, 'Section 24 (The Fragile Army)' opts for an out of character subtle start as DeLaughter's vocals combine simply with a piano before the bombastic vibrancy of the Spree is brought into the light once more as the track transforms into almost an entire Broadway musical score in one and is pure geniuses. Worryingly perhaps for DeLaughter and Julie Doyle's lyrics are almost lost amongst the triumphantly uplifting music – surely this isn't really a song about the Iraq war and Bush?! 'Section 25 (Younger Yesterday)' goes further to show the darkness that lives in the Spree's sunny disposition if you look hard enough for it as a crescendo of marching feet combine with lyrics about how "everyday's a fight", the difference is that the Spree still cling to the hope that things will be ok as long as we stand together. From any other band this would come across as a contrived soppy gimmick; from this bunch of Texan's you are convinced they believe it making even the most jaded listener have perhaps an ounce of hope.
The Polyphonic Spree may not be a conventional band, they may not be the most typical leaders of a revolution but decked out in their military attire it is clear that this is a band with a message, a message of hope and whilst their cheery outlook may be a bit too much to take at times ('Section 26 (We Crawl)' comes too close to a sickly Sunday school sing along) the honesty that pours from their every word is refreshing. The religious clothing may have been replaced but the Spree are just as weirdly wonderful as ever, just as likely to be confused as a cult or hippy gathering and just as likely to have the meanest old git in the room struggling unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.