Yo La Tengo - Summer Sun
(Matador)
The summer of 2001 was the so-called "Summer of the Shark." Remember all those irrational fears everyone seemed to center on that summer, so afraid to go out and enjoy summer's radiance the few months the sun's power is fully directed at us? The level-headed would remind us that you were more likely to die in an airplane crash than by a shark bite! And then after summer comes September, and as the shorts and flip-flops are pushed to the back of the closet, those lost rays seemed even more wasted and even harder to get back.
On Yo La Tengo's new album, Summer Sun, the band urges us to look past the fears of the "Season of the Shark" and take advantage of life. If you "blame the sun as the cause of the shadows on the wall" and let the fear of those shadows keep you from enjoying life, then you are not really living. While it's easy to simplify the meaning of the album to a simple summer bliss-out, if you dig deeper, it's clear that summer is purely a metaphor. There are no songs about parasols, palm trees, or paradise. Instead there are songs about mending wounds, getting back together, and seizing the day. Summer is life—when nature and the world is in full bloom— and it's what's passing you by if you sleep in and let pessimism and fear control you.
In the album's strongest pop song, "Little Eyes," Georgia sings us awake. Imagery of winter is used, describing driving home through a ice storm. A guitar echoes around the background of the song, creating a mellow vibe, Georgia's voice mixing beautifully to create a gentle wake-up call. "Nothing But You and Me" continues the theme of waking up, this time Ira singing us awake with a loungy jazz song, perhaps responding to Georgia's call in "Little Eyes." Piano and hi-hat are scattered throughout the space as Ira rhymes "wake-up," "make-up," and "break-up," begging for another chance.
The whole album flows with this mellow, minimal vibe. The dense, feedback-powered sound that Yo La Tengo utilized earlier in their career has completely gone away over the past two albums. There's nothing overpowering about the album. There are few uses of vocal harmony, few really catchy parts, and other broad brushstrokes. Instead there's more space and more subtlety... wide beaches and warm breezes not amusement park thrillrides.
The use of space is what makes this album one of Yo La Tengo's best albums, when looked at as a complete, cohesive whole. The sunroof is open to let a little fresh air in. The great guitar part on "Tiny Birds" is great enough on its own, it doesn't need anything other than a little keyboard shimmer in the background to sooth your soul. The Mancini-esque keyboard of "How to Make a Baby Elephant Float" is allowed to just twinkle with the barest drum-backbone (and its wink-wink reference possibly verifies my theory that "Autumn Sweater" is directly inspired by the "Dancin' Homer" episode of the "Simpsons"). The melodies are allowed to be pure and unfettered.
These pure mellow melodies are a great match to the album's theme of a gentle wake up call to make things right and start enjoying life. It makes the day brighter not with bright, dayglow sounds of summer but rather a reminder that every day is a miracle. With Yo La Tengo, you can take any album from the last ten years and listen to it once a day for a couple weeks and have it become your new "All Time Favorite Yo La Tengo Album." I haven't been able to put Summer Sun away since I got it, so it's definitely strong enough to become your new all-time fave.
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