“Only Gods Were Above Us” is a beautiful entry into Vampire Weekend’s already-spanning discography, pulling socially and sonically from all that made their previous work incredible.
“Only Gods Were Above Us” is a beautiful entry into Vampire Weekend’s already-spanning discography, pulling socially and sonically from all that made their previous work incredible.
The youth must rebel against what’s been heaped upon them, Vampire Weekend’s latest album declares. But what happens when the youth aren’t so young anymore?
The band released “Only Gods Were Above Us” April 5, five years after their last album “Father of the Bride.” The work is all about New York, the ‘80s and what happens when you hit 35 and still don’t feel quite settled. Through these windows, the thematic legacy of Vampire Weekend continues to build — a crowning sonic and lyrical achievement in their incredible catalog.
“Ice Cream Piano” is a strong start to an even stronger album, grappling with the pseudo-intellectual antagonists that have haunted the band’s music for years. A twinkling piano melody builds in a spectacular yet intentionally cantankerous finale, swiftly transitioning into the next track.
Eternally collegiate, Vampire Weekend returns to academia with “Classical,” a further cut against old adages and systems of erasure implicit in the creation of canons. The song puts drums in the spotlight, with percussion driving the track all the way through.
“Untrue, unkind and unnatural / How the cruel, with time, becomes classical,” Ezra Koenig, the frontman of Vampire Weekend, sings in the pre-chorus.
“Capricorn” taps into millennial malaise, lamenting how it’s not enough to be 30, flirty and thriving anymore. Driven by the meshing of classical instrumentation and a modern ‘80s flair that has defined the band’s sound since the beginning, “Capricorn” is near-perfect.
Koenig harnesses the artful dissonance Vampire Weekend mastered on previous albums with disharmonious notes flashing and clashing against each other, creating a soundscape of confusion.
The band’s time at Columbia University among its rich kids and heiresses has always been a central theme in their music — “Prep School Gangsters” is no different. Academia has always been a gatekept notion, Vampire Weekend maintains, locked away for the rich and powerful then used to justify their choices.
“I was tired but wakin’ up / I was dying to test my luck / Prep-school gangsters barred the way / There was nothin’ I could say,” Koenig sings.
“The Surfer” declares the world is caving in on itself and we’ve never truly cared enough to try to make it stop. When we do, it’s almost always an exercise in bleak futility.
“Oh, the surfer can’t forget the shells around his neck / But you were born beneath fluorescent lights / You’ve never seen a starry night, you saint,” Koenig sings on the chorus.
A foul legacy has been left for us by generations before, “Gen X Cops” argues, and we must make amends or be doomed to repeat all the harm wrought upon us. Maybe we already have made all the same mistakes — and we should start begging for forgiveness.
Melting in and out of a distinct, high-pitched guitar melody and the band’s more typical piano with a certain jarring precision, “Gen X Cops” shouts for redemption.
“Mary Boone” tucks further in the slow pocket of melancholy building on the past few tracks, reflecting on the heyday of ‘80s art dealer Mary Boone. Boone catapulted the careers of multiple prominent artists at the outset of the 20th century, including Ai Wei Wei, Barbara Kruger and most notably, Jean Michel Basquiat.
The sheen of artsy adulthood has grown old to the narrator on “Mary Boone,” fighting the emotional toll of the newfound realization that money and clout might not be enough to ever satisfy the upper echelon of society.
As all of Vampire Weekend’s works do, “Only God Was Above Us” deals heavily with a stinging consciousness of class, power and gaps between the uber-wealthy and the rest of us. “Mary Boone” is no different.
Harps chime in on “Pravda,” the band’s call for the mass raising of consciousness they’ve been singing about for so long. A harkening towards more Marxist conceptions of consciousness isn’t far-fetched on any Vampire Weekend track, but a direct call like this is a culmination of the political messaging of the band since its inception.
“Your consciousness is not my problem / And I hope you know your brain’s not bulletproof,” Koenig sings at the end of “Pravda.”
There’s no “Hope” left on the final track. It’s all gone to absolute hell, right has always truly been wrong, and that “right” is forever codified in the laws we’ve been told to revere.
“Our enemy’s invincible / I hope you let it go,” Koenig sings in the chorus.
Slow, downtempo and crushingly real, “Hope” seals the deal on the overall hopelessness of “Only Gods Were Above Us.” There is no winning, only losing, in the “Empire State.”
“Only Gods Were Above Us” is a beautiful entry into Vampire Weekend’s already-spanning discography, pulling socially and sonically from all that made their previous work incredible. “Only Gods Were Above Us” is available on all major streaming platforms.
Featured image courtesy of Columbia Records.
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