gt;We’ve all been taught to avoid judging a book by its cover, but Spoon’s “Transference” is an album that begs for it. Their newest album comes nipping at the heels of 2007’s hit “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga,” which dropkicked the band into the limelight with its sassy horn-supported singles and the anticipation was heavily tangible for Spoon’s seventh studio album.We’ve all been taught to avoid judging a book by its cover, but Spoon’s “Transference” is an album that begs for it. Their newest album comes nipping at the heels of 2007’s hit “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga,” which dropkicked the band into the limelight with its sassy horn-supported singles and the anticipation was heavily tangible for Spoon’s seventh studio album.
But before the album’s first notes even hit eardrums, the album’s title and cover art speak about what to expect. ‘Transference’–the action of transferring something to another–is simple enough, if a little presumptuous. But its psychological definition hints at something darker: in psychoanalysis, transference occurs when a patient redirects strong emotions such as anger and disgust toward a substitute, often the therapist. And the cover image, a brooding young guy slouching in a chair while a cropped-out woman lurks to the side, uses muted blues and oranges to convey a sense of adolescent ennui.
From the first track, the Austin-based quartet’s sound falls in line with the hinted tone of the title. It’s a little ambiguous and unclear–perhaps not directed where it should be. The opening track, “Before Destruction,” doesn’t make a big statement, but instead, vocalist Britt Daniel’s words come out stifled, as if sung into a cardboard box instead of over a vast crowd. The band’s signature low-fi garage sound is highlighted, almost overdone, almost to remind fans that despite the commercial and popular success of “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga,” that Spoon haven’t reneged on their solidly built minimal style.
Without a noticeable or marketable single, “Transference” makes a well-balanced album, with variations, but no sore thumbs. On the other hand, it wanders into the danger zone of turning into too much of the same. A few twists keep the front end of the record from dragging: “Is Love Forever?” almost answers its own tongue-in-cheek question, clocking in at 2:07 as the shortest track on the album; the easy groove of “The Mystery Zone” puts it closest to the album’s big song, but it’s too static and too long to rival the hits from other albums; “I Saw the Light” pushes two minutes of slow languor and then abruptly shifts gears to a sharp instrumental riff that builds part by part into a driving force.
By the middle mark, though, “Transference” starts having difficulties getting its message across. With the piano ballad “Goodnight Laura,” Spoon wipes away all noticeable effects in favor of a more “authentic” sound. The attempt is admirable, but the execution falls short: instead of gaining the emotional power that most stripped-down performances offer, it instead sounds like something you might overhear in a dorm piano room–a little jarring, a little off-rhythm and most definitely missing something. Following this is “Out Go the Lights,” whose lyrics sulk through the song like the man on the cover art, leaving most of the album’s momentum to straggle behind.
The last two tracks do their best to pick up the speed: “Got Nuffin,” released in 2009 on an EP, has that Spoon-style steady bass line and Britt Daniel crooning, “I got nothing to lose/except darkness and shadows.” The final savior comes in the surprise that is “Nobody Gets Me But You,” which hits the palate with a bumping bass line so unlike the 1-2-3-4 of most Spoon songs that you can’t help but bob your head a little.
It’s not groundbreaking, but Spoon doesn’t seem to mind. Right after “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga,” the band released two other EPs that catered even less than Transference does to its new mainstream audience. If any new fans of Spoon were expecting a repeat of “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” don’t bother looking–it’s not here. But something more thoughtful lurks behind the somewhat muted tracks: Spoon’s just doing what they’ve always done.