Tight Knit

At the end of Annie Hall, when Woody Allen’s character is breaking up with Annie he remarks that, ‘A relationship, is like a shark. It has to constantly move forward or it dies. I think what we have on our hands is a dead shark’. In a sense, bands are very much the same: at some point they have to move on to some new level, whether commercially or artistically, or it becomes difficult to remain enthused. Take Vetiver: they’ve released three albums of frequently very lovely West Coast pop, including last year’s gorgeous covers album, but it’s impossible to imagine anyone being as excited about their latest release as, say, Antony’s recent album, or the next Joanna Newsom record. This listener just doesn’t feel that if he doesn’t hear yet another album of pretty, but hardly essential Laurel canyon-aping pop music his life will be significantly the worse.

So, with heavy heart, it must be concluded that Tight Knit doesn’t advance Vetiver on any front, and the overall feeling when listening to it is one of apathy. Once again, they’ve produced some fine moments, but their lack of individuality or genuine personality has begun to pall. Indeed, falling short of even maintaining the status quo, it’s a record that smacks of complacency.

Lacking either the quality of songwriting of Thing of the Past or the Spiritualized-goes-West Coast dreaminess of To Find Me Gone, Tight Knit finds the Vetiver stuck in second gear. Getting the two best tracks, Rolling Sea and Sister, out of the way early heightens expectation early on, but they gradually decline. Everyday has a jaunty appeal, but the mind wanders during Through the Front Door and Down From Above, while More of This drifts way too close to the middle of the road. Things reach a nadir on the turgid, lumpen funk of Another Reason To Go, by which stage it’s safe to conclude that this album has rather lost its way. A shame, but Vetiver bear all the hallmarks of another dead shark.