At The Drive-In
Vaya (Fearless)
by Tim Den
Excluding a couple hundred lucky fans out in the Southwest, At The Drive-In was a total mystery to the general public when they burst onto the scene a year and a half ago with In/Casino/Out. No one had any clue who these quirky, profound, angularly-melodic guys were, and more importantly, why they rocked so fuckin’ hard. Well, it seems like everyone’s now in on the secret, because not only did In/Casino/Out and its consequent tours gain the band a huge following, Vaya is getting even more attention and praise. Picking up where the the most heart-wrenching aspect of their last effort left off, Vaya takes the band’s trademark weird vocal lines and amplifies them ten-fold. Those who thought songs like “Hourglass” and “Napoloen Solo” were the highlights of In/Casino/Out will shit themselves silly over “Rascuache,” “Metronome Arthritis,” and “198d.” Big, loud, explosive choruses with aching pains, stretching melodies that only work under ATDI’s unique brand of vocalization (imagine Zack de la Rocha fronting a band of Fugazis playing emo songs). And speaking from experience, I can tell you these songs are even more powerful live. Backed by drum loops and samples, these almost-anorexic Texans (skinniness that has to be seen to be believed) practically rip themselves to shreds during shows. Back flips, belly flops, breaking instruments, attacking random stage props, you name it. All the more reason to embrace these new poster boys of original, emotional rock.
And if back-breaking adrenaline isn’t enough to satisfy some of the more questionable members of the populace, one can always look to the band’s incredible display of dynamics. Think Fugazi, The Pixies, and other great indie rock bands and you’ll know what I’m saying. Not schizophrenic, not out of place, not randomly cutting and pasting time changes to boast egos and fulfill some deep insecurities; just smooth, climactic music played like they mean it. Go ahead, sing along at the top of your lungs. Let out every strain of voice you have. It’s worth it.
(13772 Goldenwest St. #545 Westminster, CA 92683)
