After several solid albums-- many of them released by Merge-- and almost 15 years of effort, the bulk of Los Angeles' Radar Bros. have jumped ship. Among the notables left behind is singer, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Jim Putnam, who arguably has always been the band's central figure. Ironically, getting whittled down to one primary member probably makes it easier to stretch out the lifespan of a band, and Putnam soon rechristened the group Radar Brothers and recruited a new rhythm section (bass player Be Hussey and drummer Stevie Treichel) to record The Illustrated Garden. Just as the band's name is only slightly different, the new lineup's sound is only slightly different as well, yet the impact of the changes is still felt. It could be just be a trick of the light, but Putnam's songs here seem a little less elliptical than usual, the music more focused in its gauzy exploration of what could be loosely called Americana.
The "Americana" tag sticks thanks to the general country-rock tropes and all the natural imagery, but as usual the group excels at blurring the edges of an already blurry genre with spacey (but never indulgent) psych leanings, controls set for the heart of the sun but anchored comfortably down to earth. Songs such as "Quarry", "Radio", and "For the Birds" recall such fellow travelers as the Meat Puppets at their most desert-fried, but Putnam's gentle vocals and the generally blissed-out disposition of the new lineup highlight the band's allegiance to craft over sun-bathed affectation.
Indeed, when all else fails, The Illustrated Garden sure sounds great, with "Horses Warriors", "And the Birds", "Xmas Lights", and "People" all echoing the settled, mellow spirit of the early 1970s. Each track glows like a golden hour snapshot capturing a certain sunset idealism (occasional flashes of menace in the lyrics aside), and if Putnam surely harbors no illusions at this point of his music's reach, that doesn't mean his songs shine any less brightly. [7/10]
PREFIX MAGAZINE
This year has seen the return of Pavement, the poster children for that whole slacker-rock thing. But to me that label never quite seemed to fit Malkmus and the gang. Sure, they sounded laid-back and loose, even at their most rocking. But it all seemed so carefully conceived, so determined in its aloofness. That doesn't make them less great, by any stretch, just not quite as slack as they might first appear.
That slacker title belongs, instead, to the likes of the Radar Bros. For more than 15 years now, Jim Putnam and his fellow players have quietly been releasing consistently beautiful records. Their sound rests on Putnam's whispery lilt, on the sway of guitars, on simple, mid-tempo percussion. And the songs themselves are often the stuff of beers-on-the-porch philosophy. These guys sound like that particular brand of slacker, the kind that get a lot of thinking done just sitting around.
And The Illustrated Garden, though it features a wholly new backing band behind Putnam, does little to change the band's hazy trajectory. The Illustrated Garden is another solid set of dreamy guitar pop. And it has plenty of late-afternoon ruminations to offer. "So there you are out in the sun getting high," Putnam keens on opener "Dear Headlights." You have to wonder if he's talking to himself, or to his bandmates, as they drift through the track. But the trick the Radar Bros. pull off here -- and have for years -- is making the music sound stoned without sounding dull. With the opener, there's a subtle lift to the chorus, and a bracing melody to hold the song up.
In other places, swaying chords shift into tighter, classic-rock riffs. Even as the Brothers question their everyday efforts -- "why try so fucking hard?" they sing together -- during the excellent sing-along chorus to "Quarry," guitars cut hard riffs into the track, injecting it with a resilience, making sound like they really want to try, even as they wonder if it's worth it. And when the riffs aren't tightened, the vocal harmonies keep these songs from losing their energy. "Horse Warrior" beautifully channels a Beach Boys' high-register melody, while in "People" Putnam sings alone up front while the band circles him hauntingly in the background.
The whole album is full of these kinds of simple, muted pleasures. And while there may not be a lot of spectacle here, there are layers that peel away as you listen, revealing songs with surprising staying power.
The Illustrated Garden won't give you much in the way of change from Radar Bros. But these guys can sound like slackers because they hit upon a brilliant sound years ago, and they still haven't finished mining it for fresh songs. Sure, this record doesn't quite match their best work, on 2002's ...and the Surrounding Mountains, but it is just as strong as anything else in their discography -- a discography that might be too lost in thought to try to win you over. But if you stumble upon it, sit down and have a beer with Radar Bros. It'll be the most productive slacking you've done in a while. [7.5/10]