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Esquire Magazine - "Burn The Maps"
The Frames, Ireland: The real reward in discovering a band - The Swell Season - Once Soundtrack - Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova that's already five albums into its career is running around town trying to find the first four. That's exactly where you'll be after listening to the Frames' latest effort, Burn the Maps. Regularly recognized as the most popular and vital band in Ireland since U2, the Frames may also be Ireland's best-kept secret. They're ghetto superstars—a band that plays stadiums at home and holes-in-the-wall here in the States. It takes only 40 seconds of Burn the Maps to recognize this is a truly special band that has mastered slow burn and raging cinematic melody. And despite the larger-than-life charisma and unique confidence of frontman Glen Hansard, implicit authenticity and believability sit behind his every syllable, lilt, and pause. His range is unparalleled, and the band shifts from quaint to bombastic in magnificent sonic sweeps, with gooey money-shot choruses itching to be screamed along to by a stadium full of soccer hooligans. "Fake" ("Come on, the guy's a fake/What do you love him for?") should be an enormous radio hit stateside, but once you immerse yourself in the first four records, you'll start feeling a little protective. You'll wonder, like a 15-year-old who's just discovered his new favourite band, if maybe you should try in vain to keep this one a secret.
Sydney Morning Herald - April 1 2005 "Fans primed for an ovation just for the band's arrival"
The Frames
Maybe it's true that every Irish man and woman within travelling distance of
Sydney (including Luka Bloom) was in the room and responding with the kind
of fervour which can come when home is an age away but alcohol is very near
and not at all dear. Bernard Zuel
Sydney Morning Herald - "Up In Frames" 24.03.2005 The Irish folk-rockers are so hot right now their tour bus caught fire. Bernard Zuel reports.
THE FRAMES It's 1am in Copenhagen. The "snow is thick on the ground and it's quite cold", reports Glen Hansard. The Frames singer-songwriter isn't unhappy about this. He has just finished a gig that went down a treat and he has his post-show cup of tea at hand. So all is right with the world. Hansard is in such equilibrium with life that he's even able to recall, with surprising fondness, the events of a few nights earlier, when the band was in transit between Prague and Berlin. It was about 1am then, too, when the band's driver noticed first smoke and then flames coming from the bus. You don't need to be Mark Webber to figure that's not a good sign and the bus emptied very quickly. "It was a beautiful moment," Hansard says. "The snow was deep down, two foot of snow around the bus, and we're in the middle of a forest on a mountainside ... then we had to put chains on the wheels and try to get the bus going again, which was bloody hard." Happiness isn't the first emotion one thinks of when discussing the Irish band. Intense and powerful, driven initially by rock dynamics inside a folk skin, they are defined by Hansard's quasi-poetic lyrics, where biblical imagery and much more modern dilemmas collide. Their problem - if anyone other than bonehead radio stations even think it's a problem - is that you can't tell whether the Frames are rockers or folkies, a melancholy band or an uplifting one. Or maybe all four? This has made it difficult for them to find a home at a record company, but has also made them one of those overwhelming live bands whose shows leave you wrung out and euphoric. Their previous Australian tours are proof of that. They didn't get named best live band and then best band in Ireland ahead of U2 for nothing. Interestingly, their albums have been progressively quieter in recent years, yet even more intense for having restraint in the place of the erstwhile regular explosion. "I think as you get older your emotions change," Hansard says. "You don't get turned on just because someone is blowing your beans. I don't get so excited if I get onstage and I'm lashing out fast." He chuckles. "I'm an older man - the testosterone level has dropped. It's not about the quick fix any more." That concentration of energy into intensity is something he shares with another couple of writers who have found the language of the Bible a source of inspiration: Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave. "When I was five years old, what I wanted was my mother to teach me the lyrics of Bird on a Wire," Hansard says. Cohen's song about the mendacity and promises of love includes potent lines such as "Like a baby, stillborn/Like a beast with his horn/ I have torn everyone who reached out for me". "On my fifth birthday, I stood in the living room and sang Bird on a Wire for the whole family. I grew up listening to Leonard Cohen, so all the biblical imagery is definitely from him. Some of my early lyrics I'm quoting directly from him. "The Bible is full of the most incredible poetry. When you read it, it talks about the world and simple things in beautiful ways." For Hansard, faith is something still to be grappled with rather than embraced, it's not the religiousness of the text that matters but its poetry. It's not by accident both George Bush and Osama bin Laden use religious imagery and poetic religious language in their speeches, he says. "Poetry makes people start wars. The power of the word is something you should never ever underestimate. "For me, growing up on a diet of Cohen had a greater influence on me than even Dylan. If I could sum up my heroes, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen: Dylan is the actor, Van Morrison is the emotion and Cohen is the poet. "But Cohen has God on his side, I reckon. You can feel the hand of God in that guy's work. "But ultimately we are driven by poetry. You can say what you like about the way the world works, but poetry makes men kill each other, not art."
New York Times - February 27 2005 "The Frames look inward" Irish band bares soul in intensely personal CD full of regret, melancholy
BURN THE MAPS At home in Ireland the Frames headline arenas and festivals. Last year they released a live album, Set List, that showed just how loudly and happily their fans sang along on a decade's worth of songs. But their new album, Burn the Maps, doesn't crow in triumph or shout for the bleachers. Just the opposite. It's an intensely private album, full of desolation, leave-takings, recriminations and regrets. The dynamics that bring audiences to their feet are turned inward, where they open emotional abysses. Burn the Maps hints at a story, an arc that leads through bitter separation to a partial, uncertain reconciliation. Glen Hansard, the Frames' singer and main songwriter, uses bare-faced, vulnerable language. ``You're telling me I should forget you, but why?'' he moans. There's the scratch of disillusionment in his voice, and then sometimes the nervy insistence of a desperate man. On this album Hansard is an anti-heroic singer, honouring his melodies without revelling in them, and he backs off from vocal climaxes, rarely allowing himself anything as simple as self-pity or rage. At their foundation, the Frames are a folk-rock band; they even include a fiddler. But there's none of the coziness of folk-rock on Burn the Maps. With hints of Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead, electronics disrupt the tunes from one angle, stirrings and eruptions of punk from another. Even when the music is quiet and confiding, it's far more melancholy than soothing. And whenever the arrangements might swell into bombast, they hollow themselves out instead with the graininess of an untuned guitar or the sinewy tone of the fiddle. The shadow of U2 hangs over most Irish rock bands, and the Frames don't have to avoid it. Like U2, the Frames can build towering crescendos from modest beginnings. Keepsake starts with subdued picked guitars and rises inexorably over seven minutes to an all-encompassing drone worthy of Mogwai or Godspeed You Black Emperor, then retreats to solitude again. But more important, the Frames have the Irish rock gift for creating drama without melodrama. Burn the Maps offers no happy ending, no tidy reassurances, not even the fleeting pleasures of self-righteousness. Its only consolations are in the sweep of the music itself. ``Sound, there's order in the sound/The sound that you don't know,'' Hansard sings.
Jon Pareles
Billboard - SXSW, March 17 2005 Thinking this event over and my chance to see Ireland's the Frames gone, as they were due to play at 1 p.m. and it was now nearly 5 p.m., I headed for the door, only to be corralled back inside by Billboard's Ed Christman, who insisted he'd heard the band hadn't played yet. He was right, and their set was a highlight for a crowd that was certainly feeling Irish after a long day of revelry. "We planned to play an electric set," frontman Glen Hansard said. "But we said, f*** it, it's St. Patty's Day' and decided to go acoustic." Along with a dedication to Brian Wilson, who shared the plane on which the Frames arrived in Austin, Hansard dropped a bit of the "Willy Wonka" theme "Pure Imagination" into a show-stopping performance of "Star Star." Barry A. Jeckell
Billboard - SXSW, March 18 2005 The day starts with BMI's Acoustic Brunch, sponsored by Billboard. In addition to some kicking grub, the midday taste treat features an inviting selection of singer/songwriters. They all perform admirably before a packed lawn at the Four Seasons Hotel, but the standouts are brunch opener KT Tunstall, signed to EMI for the U.S.; Cary Brothers, who's coming off his success on the "Garden State" soundtrack, Aware Records artist Mat Kearney, who seems to have grown by leaps and bounds since I saw him a day earlier when he must have been having an off day, and Irishman Mark Geary, fresh off a tour with the Frames and headed for Australia on Saturday. All in all, it's a great way to start the day with more than two hours of solid music from artists all of whom I'm excited to follow and watch develop. Melinda Newman
The Daily Cardinal - Madison, Wisconsin Despite burnt 'Maps,' Frames find their way on new album
by Ben Peterson The Frames have been around for over a decade, making albums that flourish at home in Ireland but fail to reach an audience in the U.S. After starting out on Island Records in 1992, and subsequently getting bounced around to various smaller labels, The Frames finally ended up on ANTI- for their latest release, Burn The Maps. They're finally getting managed properly, too, as they've been gaining steady exposure in the states for what will surely end up as one of the great albums of 2005. The ironically titled "Happy" opens the album on a sombre note, setting the gorgeously vulnerable tone that prevails on Burn The Maps with the line "Come help me out, I'm sick from the fight." It flows seamlessly into a lush, highly addictive chorus, which finds vocalist Glen Hansard crooning like Thom Yorke. The song's stellar element of intimacy manages to persist throughout the entire album, even though many songs do not share its subdued, hushed nature. The Frames have a true affinity with layering their songs. They build and fade magnificently, sometimes weaving in and out gradually, other times roaring or halting instantly. In songs such as "Dream Awake," listeners find themselves engrossed in a soft lullaby, suddenly wrenched into a frenetic jumble of orchestration and percussion and just as quickly delivered back to quiet sanity with Hansard softly singing like nothing happened. "Ship Caught In The Bay" is a uniquely dreamy song which is the biggest departure from the rest of Burn The Maps. It is fitting that this song, whose instrumentation lies in a distant undercurrent of guitar and bongo, would breathe life into the meaning of the album's title. With the words "Leaving, but never far enough / Like a ship caught in the bay," it is understandable why Hansard might want to burn those maps that continually lead him back to trouble and heartbreak. Burn The Maps is a fantastically captivating journey, and one that's bound to stick in your mind-not just through the hooks, but also through The Frames' unabashed desire to draw you into their impassioned world and not let you out. It helps that the music's just too damn good for you to resist.
The Boston Phoenix - "Burn The Maps" This Irish group have been plugging away for the past few years at a kind of measured folk rock that’s delicate enough to evoke comparisons with fellow acoustic-minded Dubliner Damien Rice but sturdy enough to support the occasional gusts of distorted guitar they use to spruce up sentiments like the one frontman Glen Hansard floats in "Finally." "And the lie that cut the worst," he sings over ragged power chords and a martial snare roll, "has been resolved and reversed." On Burn the Maps, the Frames’ fifth studio album (and the follow-up to last year’s live Set List), Hansard and his mates reconcile those folk and rock aspects of their sound as well as they ever have. The thrill of "Finally" and "Fake" isn’t necessarily in hearing them go from dashboard-confessional soft to shout-it-out loud (though Dave Odlum, who used to play guitar in the band, deserves notice for his crisp production) but in how naturally they make that transition. Unlike Nirvana and the Pixies, the inventors of modern alt-rock’s soft-loud dynamic, the Frames don’t turn it up to vent their outsized feelings; they do it because sometimes their feelings vent themselves. (The Frames appear this Wednesday, March 2, at the Paradise Rock Club, 967 Commonwealth Avenue in Boston; call 617-562-8800.) MIKAEL WOOD, 3/5
Minneapolis Star Tribune - "Poised for a breakout" After touring with Damien Rice last year and building a buzz for their new release, "Burn the Maps," Irish rock quartet the Frames are poised for a breakout. The album is full of dark, dramatic, post-breakup songs akin to Afghan Whigs and the Walkmen, but its piano and string arrangements provide more of a rootsy vibe. Irish singer-songwriter Mark Geary opens. (9 p.m. Mon., 400 Bar, 400 Cedar Av. S., Mpls. $10. 612-332-2903.) (C.R.)
U2log.com - "Irish bands cover U2 for Tsunami Relief Fund" Today FM in Ireland have released ‘Even better than the real thing, volume 3’, a double CD compilation of U2 songs covered by (mostly) Irish artists. The massive tracklist includes Declan O’Rourke, The Divine Comedy, The Frames and Bell X1), while Jerry Fish (ex-An Emotional Fish) tries his hand at U2’s classic ‘One’. Some tracks were performed live on the Ray D’Arcy Show, others recorded in private studios. Proceeds go to the UNICEF Tsunami Relief Fund. Patrick Lynch reviews ‘Even better than the real thing, volume 3’ for U2log.com: U2 covered on Irish Fundraiser Ever wished you could experience the songs of U2 again just like you were hearing them for the first time? That the assembled trademark package of history that has come to be unavoidably associated with the band was to fall away for an hour or so? Well here is such an opportunity. Even Better Than The Real Thing is the title given to Ireland’s latest fund raising initiative. Compiled and recorded for Unicef in aid of the ongoing Tsunami Relief Fund this double CD features 25 current Irish acts performing 23 U2 songs. It’s a novel idea on many fronts. Obviously the fundraising potential in itself, followed by the chance to hear different takes on these familiar songs and perhaps most notable the fact that it comes from the current crop of Irish performers. Many of those partaking couldn’t have been more than mere children or early teenagers when the majority of these songs first saw the light of day. Since U2’s meteoric rise in the mid eighties there is a street sense that the band have become more and more removed from the Irish music scene. With the demise of Mother records and excepting the occasional tour support slot U2 have for some years been perceived as somewhat aloof to the nurturing of their hometown scene to any great extent. Not that they are obliged to of course, their vision has always been more worldly than introspective. However it was a widening gap that has been noticed in Irish music circles for some time. Of course nowadays much, if not all of the Irish music scene operate from different venues and recording studios to those that U2 circulated in and its probably all the better for it. Healthier perhaps that the Irish music scene has long since cast off its U2 shadow. And how the scene has changed for it. Whereas once hailed as the city of a thousand bands it is fair to say that in today’s Dublin, bands are now outnumbered three to one by acoustic guitar wielding singer songwriter’s. And indeed the most successful of these are well represented on this CD, from the established and top selling Paddy Casey with a quiet rendition of Mothers Of The Disappeared to the gutsy delivery of When Loves Comes To Town by Dublin’s latest arrival in the multi talented Declan O' Rourke. Similarly Mark Geary and Mundy turn in top class renditions of All I Want Is You and Seconds. Comfortably removed with hearing a CD of covers of this sort is the need to sit on the fence while the songs seep in, that fear that the tracks you dismiss today will become your favourites of tomorrow. What’s on trial here is not so much the songs that we know backwards and could sing in our sleep, but the translations of them on offer. While some of the standard bearers are well represented (Sunday Bloody Sunday and Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses are included twice) there are enough less obvious choices to endear this. Personal favourites such as Love Is Blindness and So Cruel get their own unique and very different treatments from The Devlins (with Sharon Corr on violin) and Erin McKeown. Meanwhile Heartland and October get moody and evocative interpretations from Bell X1 and Divine Comedy. The Frames’ 40 and both versions of Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses by Tom Baxter and Picturehouse disappoint somewhat while standout contributions come from the old reliables like Luka Bloom who is very good on Bad. Also recommended is Love Rescue Me on which Rosey goes for a straightforward country delivery. An understated, less fussy that the original A Sort Of Homecoming by Hazel Kaneswaran and a more fleshed out version of Running to Stand Still by the hitherto less street cred Mickey Harte are also noteworthy. Elsewhere the Lisa Bresnan piano accompaniment of Sunday Bloody Sunday comes over all Joni Mitchell while Aslan sound unrecognizable on New Years Day. The band go on to explain in the sleeve notes that they chose this song for the cause for its message of hope. Passable versions come from The Walls of With Or Without You and Irelands newest and youngest answer to Luke Kelly: George Murphy who jokes on the sleeve notes of his cover of Van Diemens Land that if the Edge stole this song from the folkies then he is stealing it back! Things are brought up to date with an inclusion of ‘Vertigo’. And instead of the standard punk treatment one would expect, here it gets the Elvis Viva Las Vegas treatment. ‘Elvis/Kevin Boyle’ as he likes to call himself, a popular tribute act to the King and apparently endorsed by Presley’s own musician’s, gives this a shuffle backing beat and curled lip delivery. Cutest inclusion on the CD comes from the closing St. Fiachra’s Junior School Choir with their rendition of Sweetest Thing. Overall, as a benefit CD of U2 covers this has a feel of a generation removed, of the hometown youngsters interpreting their ancestor’s songs. And within that distance seemingly lies a great respect. A tipping of the hat from the new comers to the masters. And as with the buskers of Grafton Street before them, surely the greatest compliment these bands and performers can give U2 is to pay homage to their work. To sing these songs are to endorse them, to state loudly they are songs that deserve to be sung, breathed with new life and passed on to newer audiences. With this tribute U2 have come home yet again and in doing so have really come of age. As witnessed here, from New Years Day to Vertigo, is that what sets them apart from other acts of such legendary status is that over twenty five years down the line they are still doing it. And how.
cluas.com - The Frames in Copenhagen 'Loppen', Copenhagen, Denmark, 17 February 2005
Review Snapshot: The start of the set, however, was all thunder and no lightning. Opening with ‘Keepsake’, ‘A Caution to the Birds’ and ‘Dream Awake’, the Frames struck a sombre, melodramatic and excessively earnest tone to begin with which, without any characteristic Hansard preamble to inject life and meaning into a clutch of largely still unfamiliar tunes from ‘Burn the Maps’, did little to break the ice. Indeed, even during the simmering adrenaline and purpose of the fantastic ‘Finally’, Glen Hansard – now replete with Van Gogh-like red beard – appeared more concerned with completing the ‘tormented genius’ image by glaring furiously at a spot on the back wall than directing his music at a bypassed audience who swayed uncertainly and appeared to consider retaking their seats until something more familiar and friendly surfaced. Ultimately however, timing is one of the Frames’ strongest suits and Glen chose just the right moment, Hamlet-like, to cast his knighted colour off and let his eye look like a friend on Denmark. Discarding his beanie hat along with the dark pretensions, he launched into the lullaby anthem ‘Lay Me Down’ which had the assembled crowd of Danes and Irish sighing, smiling and singing along in recognition and relief. This was followed by the beautifully contemplative ‘What Happens When the Heart Just Stops’ ad-libbed into Van Morrison’s ‘Caravan’ – but not before the now characteristic prologue; a recollection of coming home hung-over after a night spent sleeping in a girlfriend’s front garden. The bittersweet bareness of ‘Happy’ and ‘Sideways Down’ followed (the latter prefaced by a hilarious Hansard appraisal of Sex and the City’s Carrie and her choice in men which, with its lead line ‘You’re standing alone‘, seemed to make all the sense in the world at the time). At this point the Frames were positively incandescent, radiating energy through warm humour and the heated genius of their music. Scorching renditions of ‘Pavement Tune’ and ‘Fake’ nearly took the roof off, with Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ rather aptly worked into the mix. The taper removed, Glen Hansard was now burning at his brightest. The performance was then given a preliminary warming down with ‘Your Face’ and ‘Star Star’ (once more combined to heartbreaking perfection with the tragic beauty of dEUS’s ‘Hotellounge’). In what is now an established formality, The Frames then trooped offstage before returning minutes later to chants of ‘one more tune’, to which they over-obliged with customary generosity. In special tribute to all the Irish fans who had turned out, the incendiary ‘Revelate’ was first sent up, all guns blazing, the jagged opening chords erupting molten from Hansard’s Fender. Coming down from this with slow burners ‘Friends and Foe’, the quirky, thumb-clicking ‘Devil Town’ and the peerless ‘Dance the Devil’, the Frames chose neither to burn out nor fade away. For the audience it was a case of going instead “out of the darkness and into the cold”, sustained by a warmth generated from a powerful and passionate performance by some of the best in the business. Barry Lysaght
Orlando Sentinel - "Lucky Irish rockers find success on the ‘Maps'"
by Chuck Myers | Knight Ridder Tribune
The Prague Post - "In love with the lads" "Dreaming with Prague's favourite Irish rockers"
by Jonny Tennant The Frames are making an eagerly anticipated return to Prague, this time at Archa Theater, where the Irish outfit will deliver their melodic brand of contemporary rock ornamented by lead singer/guitarist Glen Hansard's eloquent vocal trappings. "I heard that Archa's a great room," says Hansard by phone from Ireland a few days before heading to Brussels for the first date of the tour. "Nick Cave played there and said it was really good, so we took the opportunity to go and have a look at it." Although the increasingly busy Hansard can spend only three or four days out of every six weeks at home in Ireland, he seems to be taking it in stride. "It's almost as if I've become institutionalized by the likes of travel," he says. "I think that's probably a phase in one's life that passes, but right now I'm in the middle of it." Be it a television appearance in America or a gig in Seattle with the Pixies, The Frames are finding themselves more "in the middle of it" than ever, especially in the wake of their new album, Burn the Maps, receiving worldwide release. "Suddenly it seems there's so much more going on," marvels Hansard. A cut off the album is available on the band's Web site (www.theframes.ie), where you can listen to "Dream Awake." It's a fresh, lively offering that builds up to an almost cacophonic drum 'n' bass-style ending. "What you're hearing on 'Dream Awake' was actually a mistake," confides Hansard. "It was meant to be a slow song, but Graham [Hopkins, the drummer] made a mistake and went into a fast rhythm. At first we thought it was just a bit of fun, but we kept on listening back to it and thinking, that's great. So we decided to be brave and put it on the album. It was a fortunate accident." Hansard went through a bit of an ordeal the last time he visited the Czech Republic. Invited to a post-gig party after playing the Pogo Club in Ceske Budejovice, he promptly forgot both his guitars on the street. When a club employee phoned Hansard the next morning, it was to ask if he had left "a guitar" behind. Hansard's acoustic guitar was still there, but his black Fender Telecaster was gone. When the guitar mysteriously reappeared two weeks later, there was only one noticeable difference: A protection spell in the form of a white cross put on it by Jason Molina of Songs Ohia was gone. "I'd had the guitar since I was 15," says Hansard. "I was trying to get away from the idea of a material object meaning so much to me. Then, just when I'd accepted it, the guitar came back into my life. So now I appreciate it with a new meaning." It seems that whenever the lads pass through, both Irish expats and Czechs get a serious case of intoxicating Framemania. When asked what she would ask Hansard, one fan (a Czech, incidentally) promptly replied, "Will he marry me?" Hansard's reply, which displays an admirable knowledge of the Czech language: "Tell her no, which in Czech means yes. So it's kind of a vague answer." Be that as it may: Plain and simple, Prague loves The Frames. On tour with a new album, Hansard and company like the looks of Archa.
The Frames
eye.net - "The big picture" If The Arcade Fire's recent success is any indication, audiences are once again willing to embrace drama in pop. The Frames must be praying this is true: 15 years, eight albums and countless personnel changes into their career, the Dublin quartet are still making a big noise only in their native Ireland -- and on their albums, of course. On 2001's For the Birds they delivered delicate, folky songs that exploded intermittently into cathartic cannonades of sound; Burn the Maps finds them surging back and forth more frequently, and even more effectively, in an emotional tug-of-war. The Frames develop the Pixies' famed "quiet/loud thing" in a more expansive context: one moment, frontman Glen Hansard will be murmuring gently over wispy strings and hushed percussion; the next, he's letting loose in a ravaged wail over a punishing, insistent rhythm and a wall of guitars. Occasionally, this approach threatens to become formulaic and strained, but The Frames are such imaginative arrangers, they're usually able to find new directions in which to yank their audience's heartstrings. "Ship Caught in the Bay," for instance, begins as a near-comatose ballad but, out of nowhere, the ambient loop lilting along in the background morphs into blistering industrial beats set off by Colm Mac Con Iomaire's warped, processed violin. Whether Hansard is being straightforward ("Come on the guy's a fake / What do you love him for?") or poetic ("The bells that rang in hope / Are still swinging from the ropes / We thought we'd one day perish on"), he invests his lyrics with a doomed longing and rancour -- a kind of grown-up angst. Apparently, he's a hilarious raconteur on stage, and indeed, the album could use a bit of comic relief in moments when the drama gets slightly overwrought. That said, Burn the Maps offers a compelling and finely crafted take on a ragged romanticism that's identifiably Irish but potentially universal. Mike Doherty The Frames play The Opera House (735 Queen E) Mar 4.
Boston Herald - "Frames let it all hang out" Friday, March 4, 2005 Irish bands always seem to have a flair for the dramatic. Snide and ironic indie-rock posturing just doesn't fit into their equation. Following in the giant footsteps of fellow heart-on-sleeve rockers U2, the Frames brought their emotionally charged dynamics to a sold-out Paradise Wednesday night to the delight of a devotional crowd. Despite coming from across the ocean, the Frames must have felt right at home, with Irish expats outnumbering the locals about 10 to 1 in the swamped audience. The Frames' new release, ``Burn the Maps,'' the band's first on a major U.S. label, attempts to level that ratio. Kings in their home country, the Frames have inexplicably struggled to gain a foothold here. Part of the problem is the band's inability to capture its captivating live performance on record. The Frames simply explode onstage, and Wednesday night was no exception.
The Dubliners began the night with an
atypical set starter, the brooding and downcast ``Caution to the Birds,''
its soft/loud dynamics foreshadowing the rest of the night. ``Keepsake,'' a
moody ballad from the new record, followed, the tune's whisper descending
into screeching dissonance by song's end. Just like their steadily building song dynamics, the Frames crafted a set that carried an almost frightening momentum, each song raising it to new, emotionally draining levels. The exposed nerve-endings of Hansard's unhinged vocal howl on ``Fake'' and the desperate crunch of ``Pavement Tune'' struck a powerful chord with the rapturous crowd. Their participation on the latter song became so extreme that Hansard left the microphone to conduct their vocals. Coming out for its first encore, the band returned to its thunderous approach on the slashing guitar majesty of ``Revelate.' 'The finger-snapping a cappella harmonies of ``Devil Town'' quieted even the most obnoxious beer-swillers and gave closure to a triumphant night. Engaging and spirited singer-songwriter Mark Geary opened the show, his similar brogue and passionate delivery aptly prefacing his countrymen's set.
Christopher Blagg
Duluth News Tribune - "Irish indue rockers The Frames poised for breakout"
bY CHUCK MYERS Irish audiences have been doing it for years. And now, American fans have caught on -- singing full throttle to songs by indefatigable Irish indie rockers, The Frames. Orbiting on the fringes of mainstream music nearly 15 years, The Frames (singer/songwriter/guitarist Glen Hansard, violinist Colm Mac Con Lomaire, bassist Joseph Doyle, guitarist Rob Bochnik and drummer Johnny Boyle) have developed a loyal following through their hauntingly distinctive and elegant music. This may soon change however, as a new album, "Burn the Maps," and a fresh start on a new label, Los Angeles-based ANTI, might finally push the band into an overdue and well-deserved limelight. Hansard and Mac Con Lomaire are the group's remaining original members. (Guitarist Simon Good has joined the band for an early spring tour of the United States, sitting in for Mac Con Lomaire, who remained in Ireland for the birth of a child.) The Frames could have opted for a more pop-oriented sound that probably would have brought them greater commercial success long ago. But they didn't. Instead, the band chose to pursue a sound that suited its creative sensibilities. Initially signed by Island Records, the band has endured rocky experiences with record labels, often receiving less than expected support. Frustrated, The Frames finally produced an album on their own, 2001's "For the Birds." Texturally lush, "Birds" showed an adept integration of sonic elements and signaled a new aesthetic plateau for the group. Hansard admits that "Birds" was largely his baby, whereas "Burn the Maps" represents a more total band effort. "It was a record that was kind of put together rather that a bunch of songs that were composed," said Hansard. "We wanted to make an album that sonically was a little bit more colorful than that 'For the Birds.' " Complex, smooth and scorching, at times, "Burn the Maps" builds tension through searing riffs and dramatic peaks, particularly on the numbers "Sideways Down," "Underglass" and "Keep Sake." "Fake," the band's first hit single in Ireland, provides the most straight-ahead pop rock moment on the album. Hansard will be the first to admit that his song lyrics are open to broad interpretation. They do decidedly express, however, a range of universal deep human emotions and states. It's tempting to read profound meaning into The Frames' numbers. Conjecture aside though, the songs actually pose more questions than answers. "There's always been, in my songs, a kind of an element of 'what's it all about?' " explained the 34-year-old songwriter. "Our music, our songs, are questions. And if I'm asking the same question as you, then we relate to each other, and we have some connection. The idea of rock stars having answers, I find to be gross. ... People always say there a very close line between preaching and musicians. But I really don't think there is." After years of playing before partisans at intimate venues, The Frames stepped up their game by headlining a large outdoor concert in Dublin's Marlay Park last summer. Certainly, The Frames were no strangers to performing outdoors. But the experience proved a special, if not seminal, moment. Upcoming U.S. gigs include the South by Southwest music showcase in Austin, Texas and shows in Seattle and West Hollywood.
Straight.com - Georgia Straight, Canada "Frames Frontman Is Wary Of Mass Success"
by Sarah Rrowland Accessing Glen Hansard feels like some sort of covert operation. For starters, the Frames’ frontman is safely tucked away in the back of a long and dimly lit tour bus, which is parked in front of Montreal’s Cabaret La Tulipe. Adding to that, he and his four bandmates??—who play Richard’s on Richards on Thursday (March 10)—are militantly democratic about their interview rotation system. Today, the tour manager firmly points out, is bassist Joseph Doyle’s turn. But since the scheduled interviewee is stuck in sound check, Hansard peels himself away from his laptop and explains his reluctance to chat up every music writer who wants 10 minutes with him. “I just don’t want to turn into a whore that knows how to turn you on by what I say, someone that knows how to be quotable,” he says, not realizing that as soon as he said “whore”, my sound-bite radar started pinging uncontrollably. “Plus, it’s nice to give the boys a bit of the action. Some of the lads have some great positivity to share, whereas I can be a real morose bastard sometimes.” Not today. Even after Doyle comes bounding in for his turn with the media, Hansard happily continues to dominate our Q&A period. We begin by discussing the success of “Fake”, a single that was released in Ireland in 2003 and instantly catapulted the Dublin veterans from a local cult act to Irish rock royalty. “It’s not a fancy song; there’s nothing super-intelligent about it,” says Hansard, whom many may recognize as the guitarist in The Commitments. “It’s just a straight-ahead rock song with a bit of a hook.” That’s an understatement. Upon first listen to the inescapably catchy number, featured on the Frames’ latest album, Burn the Maps, you can pinpoint the exact note (approximately 9.8 nanoseconds in), where fans are likely to raise their hands and sing along. The guitar-driven “Fake” is noticeably different from Radiohead-esque rockers like “Happy” and avant-folk drifters like “Keepsake”. Throughout most of the record, violinist Colm MacConlomaire remains a unifying force. He deftly builds pastel swirls of Celtic noise, subtly underscoring both the experimental ballads and the OK Computer-indebted chart toppers. Along with ample radio play in their native land, these working-class blokes’ fifth studio LP scored them the headlining slot at Dublin’s Marley Park music festival last summer. Frame-mania has yet to conquer U.S. airwaves. But according to Hansard, that’s probably for the best. “I think we’d implode overnight,” he says, snapping his fingers with conviction. “The band would just freak out because we’re a small simple business that knows how it works and likes how it works. So if, for example, “Fake” suddenly shot straight to number five in America, we’d have a pretty rough ride of it.” Breaking his silence, the quiet Doyle dreamily interjects: “Actually, I think we’d have a pretty good time.”
The Seattle Times - "Irish band sets out to conquer America" Back home in Ireland, the Frames are superstars. Their albums top the charts and they can fill stadiums with rabid fans who sing along to every song. But in America the band is still struggling to establish itself. It has its best shot yet with its latest album, "Burn the Maps," an impressive, eclectic collection that shows that the group excels in the kind of passion and drama exemplified by U2, a band the Frames are often compared to. Romantic tension is an overriding theme on the disc, with songs of regret, acceptance and anger. A better example of what to expect when the Frames headline tonight at the Croc, however, is its previous disc, "Set List," recorded live at one of those stadium shows. The CD captures the compelling showmanship of Glen Hansard, the founder, lead singer and linchpin of the band, which he started in 1990. He's an engaging frontman who tells funny stories, randomly throws in cover tunes in the middle of one of his own, encourages the audience to participate, and shows both tender and hard-rocking sides of himself. He can sing a sweet pop song, à la Coldplay, or a twisted revenge song, like something from Nine Inch Nails. His songs often start slowly and build to dramatic climaxes. There's a touch of R&B in some of the songs, an influence that goes back to the days of the Commitments, the band and the film of the same name. Hansard put his band aside for about a year as he completed his role as one of the band members, including playing some live gigs. The hit film gave his band a big boost in Ireland. Also on tonight's bill is fellow countryman Mark Geary, a passionate singer-songwriter, and Tim Seely, a local singer-songwriter, formerly of the band Actual Tigers.
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Splendid Magazine - "Burn The Maps" Feb. 8 2005
Yes, 2005 could be the year The Frames finally break. And it couldn't happen to a more deserving band. -- George Zahora
Stylus Magazine - "Burn The Maps"
The Irish Echo Online - "Burn The Maps" Complexity without compromise by Jill Sheehy
The Dublin-based band took the high road, and did it without compromising a thing. Still layered and intense as ever, the Frames can consider the music that makes up "Burn the Maps" a testament to their talent and efforts. The new album does such an honest job of conveying the Frames at their best that it ensures that if the U.S. is going to love the Frames, they will love everything -- the peaks, the valleys and the in-betweens. The album comes perilously close to being almost too mellow at times, but it only takes a thorough listen to hear the complexity beneath the lulled vocals of Glen Hansard and careful string work of Colm Mac Con lomaire. Having recorded and mastered in three different locations could typically be a recipe for disaster, with the pitfalls of overproduction and the old adage of "too many cooks." Instead, the Frames are wholly involved with the process and keep their finished product sounding top-notch. Their signature dots each track, and ensures that the sound is impeccable. "Dream Awake," the first single, is a slowly building masterpiece, closing with crashing drums and a sweeping violin to climax, only to be stopped by the realism of Hansard's vocals. "Happy," the leadoff track, plays out as a stark contrast against itself but without alienating the listener. Careful timing and Mac Con lomaire's dramatics with the violin help make it one of the most solid Frame's songs ever. "Fake" could be the one misstep, not because it is a bad song but rather it fails to fit in with the mood of the entire album. It is understandable why it was included, however, being both a huge hit in Ireland and seemingly commercially viable in the U.S. It is a sad love song, but you can almost imagine Hansard grinning as he sings the chorus. The album begins its sloping finish with the tremendous "Suffer in Silence," the ending of which only teases the listener for more. Sure, it has all the grand swooshes and dreamy guitars of any decent concluding track. But it never raises its own voice, instead allowing the music to drift off, seemingly full of hope. Listeners will leave the same as they came, looking for more of the Frames to devour. There is a lot riding on "Burn the Maps," but the best ending is what it is -- a CD made for the band by their own tough standards, which ends up being a treat for the listener: fans and first timers alike.
The Onion AV Club - "Burn The Maps"
Burn The Maps begins with the hushed hum of "Happy," as Hansard half-whispers a statement of modern alienation, culminating in the line "Why are you building divides?", which could be directed at God, a lover, or a political party. The song gets louder, but rather than cutting loose, it just keeps building, adding more guitar, more piano, and finally a wash of strings. The escalating drumbeat and harder-edged guitar of the next song, "Finally," promises some release, but its chorus gets softer instead of louder. The Frames' tense vamping doesn't begin to crest until the bridge, though again, it never really breaks. Throughout the record—on the dynamic "Dream Awake," the low, snaky "Sideways Down," and the quietly panicky epic "Keepsake," among others—The Frames changes tempo, volume, and tone, but at the point where most bands chase patterns to their conclusion, or let out a triumphant power-riff, Hansard and company just downshift and start over. Some of these exercises in frustration are simply frustrating, but for the most part, The Frames' perverse restraint matches Hansard's lyrics, which are all about lowered expectations. Even when the song "Fake" follows a conventional rock structure, its big, pounding chorus proves to be a letdown after the amiably poky singsong that precedes it. As an experiment in defying formal expectations, Burn The Maps demonstrates how a climax delayed can be a climax extended. Noel Murray
Atlanta, Georgia - "Burn The Maps"
If it weren't for the staying power of U2, the Frames might be Ireland's greatest living rock band. But, since Bono and the boys continue to make fine records after a quarter-century, thus refusing to abdicate, the Frames have to settle for being the heir apparent. That doesn't mean U2 and the Frames have a whole lot in common musically. The Frames can get as self-consciously anthemic as their older countrymen (and blustery American bands like the Smashing Pumpkins or the Pixies), something that's even more in evidence here than on their earlier albums. But it's still the little things that make the Frames special. Little of "Burn the Maps," the quartet's fifth and finest studio album, reaches out and grabs the ear immediately. There are fewer massive hooks, and many delicate barbs of gold that work their magic slowly and with more lasting appeal. "Burn the Maps" is loaded with time-released touches of goosebump-inducing beauty: the ghostly wordless mass of backing vocals on "Happy," the crush of barbed-wire guitars that makes the chorus of "A Caution to the Birds" sound like Neil Young jamming with "The Bends"-era Radiohead. The band has mastered the soft verse/big chorus dynamic and the slow build. A quiet intensity escalates throughout "Sideways Down" until it's draped with perfectly placed strings before fading back to the doubled-up vocal and insistent bass buzz that began the track. "Burn the Maps" is a moody and melancholy companion, and one that doesn't give up all it's secrets on the first date. Give it a few spins and it soon becomes an endlessly fascinating piece of work that just might earn your eternal devotion.
BBC Ceefax - "Burn The Maps"
There is not much uplifting material on this new opus, with eeriness, misery and introspection proving paramount. Guitars go from gentle to grinding, vocals are pained, with a sprinkling of strings lending occasional drama. Pacier songs like Fake and Underglass bring a touch of life to an album to an album which lacks the quality which makes you want to play it on an endless loop. Michael Osborn
Zero Magazine - "Burn The Maps"
Nate Seltenrich
Hot Press.com - "Sideways Down" Jan.24 2005
Cheerio to the Frames then, at least for a while, as they start the battle to convince the rest of the world to love them like their countrymen. Burn The Maps isn’t a bad way to try and do it and ‘Sideways Down’ is a nice little goodbye gift. You suspect the next time we’ll see them will be in a field somewhere this summer. Phil Udell
City Tribune - "Burn The Maps"
Glen Hansard, lead vocalist with the Frames, started busking on the streets of Dublin at fourteen. Encouraged by his mother—who went and bought him a guitar—Hansard’s and his mother’s primal instincts proved accurate. His success has taken many avenues, from record deals to their failures, from the coming and going of band members to long-awaited success. “Revelate” and “Star, star’ awakened the world to the Frames and not before time either. Burn the Maps comes in the wake of their live album, Set List, which captures The Frames’ real talent—live performance. This album blends the quiet, subdued songs, which The Frames are renowned for, with the rock element they’ve been aspiring to find a place for in their records. Does it work? Yes, resoundingly yes. This is an accomplished album filled with hushed melodies that rise into manic vocals. Burn the Maps starts with the unhappy “Happy”. It’s about divides, misunderstanding, or simply not understanding, the gaps and lines between wordsactions and what they mean. Slowly riling, its stupendously uplifting symphony only kicks in towards the end. As always Colm Mac Con Iomaire is to thank; his violin inserts are sharply timed. “Finally”, the album’s second track in angrier. Its one word chorus “finally’ goes from acceptance to exasperation and back again. “Dream Awake” starts slowly, bt rallies into a frenzy of drums. A beautiful song, all the more pertinent in the wake of recent disasters (there’s a calling, a calling, a calling to everyone who lost something). “A Caution to the Birds” follows the suit of earlier songs. Its painfully slow beginning charges into a loud chorus, which aptly begins with the word sound and that’s precisely what Hansard gives it. The guitar riffs at the end and Mac Iomaire’s violin give the song gravity. “Trying”, harks back to their album “for the Birds”. It is the lullaby highs of Hansard’s voice and the finger-picked guitar strings that make it resonate. Then comes, what for most will be sufficient reason to buy this album, “Fake”, which was released as a single during the year. It’s an anthem for lost love and has the raw-rock verses interspersed with its sweet melodious chorus. “Sideways Down” introduces Lisa Hannigan on backing vocals; its rhythmic guitar jams threaten to take off into oblivion with the chorus ‘now you’re standing alone’, but the song manages to stay put; the violin strings catapult and ease it back again into its steady tempo. “Underglass” marks a transition. Here Hansard’s vocals rip into shrieks for this simple rock tune. The last set of four “Ship Caught in the Bay”, “Keepsake”, “Suffer in Silence” and “Locusts” are lovesong, beautifully articulated. Warped vocals serenade the bands’ instruments that complement rather than envelop Hansard’s voice in the first of these songs. It ends with drumbeats and violins caught in static, fading in and out and then simply stopping. “Keepsake” is heartbreakingly beautiful. The Chorus is introduced b the violin and its ricochet, followed by the simple words: ‘down, down, down.” The final refrain “I can’t sleep” is broken by an assembly of guitars and the violin’s struggle, all of which rushes into a crescendo that leaves the lyrics inaudible. “Suffer in Silence” is a downbeat song, sparse on instruments, but strong vocally. The vocals are reinforced by the lyrics, simple but effective: “I believe”. Joe Doyle shares the vocals in “Locusts”. Again, it’s the by now, predictable slow start, but this time there is no frenzy, just a piano sounding like plops of rain falling into a puddle. It’s a remarkable album.
Cluas.com - "The Clearys" Jan.16 2005
Review Snapshot:
The CLUAS Verdict?
Full review: The smoke machines were turned on and the lights came down. Excitement echoed through the Dublin venue, which quickly morphed into full-fledged fan fever when The Cleary’s arrived. The opener ‘Keepsake’ floated by like a mournful dirge while ‘A Caution To The Birds’ added some much needed energy to the beginning of the set. When the early timid sounds of ‘Dream Awake’ crept from the large speakers, it was unusual to notice that the crowd reacted in almost quarrelsome manner. In contrast to this surprised response, it is typical behaviour of Frames fans to transform a small venue into a haven of stadium-sized proportions with the atmosphere they create. The enthusiasm and passion that Frames devotees have brought with them over the years has not only been impressive but a powerful statement that their loyalty is as strong as ever on the eve of The Frames’ worldwide release of ‘Burn The Maps’. They deserved this gig and deserved the excellent version of ‘Finally’ that followed. A labyrinthine take of ‘Lay Me Down’ with Joe’s bass churning out some clouting rhythms came before a confessional slipstream of midway rock in the shape of ‘Plateau’. Next up came an aching version of ‘Happy’, followed by the unbalanced structure of ‘People Get Ready’ with each instrument straying off on meandering avenues, an unneeded insert of ‘Trying’, a compelling take of ‘Fake’ and a superb ‘Pavement Tune’ quickly came after. Deep breaths were then inhaled, drinks were sipped and a thirst for more of the same quenched throughout the crowd. The integral part that Colm plays in this band was given its spotlight on ‘Bad Bone’, a compelling number and few seemed to know. A rollicking ‘Underglass’ then came before a calming ‘Star Star’ with ‘Hotel Lounge’ mixed in at the end for good measure. The band then bowed and left the stage. It was under two minutes before the band reappeared and started into an instrumental before a sauntering account of ‘Early Bird’. A real seriousness was attached to ‘Friend And Foe’ while ‘Revelate’ and a cover of the Pixies classic ‘Where Is My Mind?’ had the crowd bouncing around. The tempo was again brought down with the stirring ‘The Blood’, the wonderful ‘Devil Town’, the well-executed ‘Dance The Devil’ and the effective ‘Suffer In Silence’, which was a fitting song to end on and for what this gig was raising money for. Overall the gig was another really good performance from The Frames and supported by the ever-charming Mark Geary. Gareth Maher
German website - "Burn The Maps" Go to enough extremes and you’ll find a kind of balance. Until now, The Frames’ music favoured bi-polar swings, violently loud on one song, violently quiet the next. On Burn The Maps, their fifth studio album, the band have reconciled their various personalities into one volatile organism, synthesizing gorgeous melancholy with full-blown anger. If 2000’s For the Birds seemed to capture the Dublin/Chicago quintet playing in a small room with nobody watching, Burn The Maps turns on the arc lamps. Served by their most faithful production job yet (courtesy of ex-guitarist Dave Odlum and new guitarist Rob Bochnik, who formerly spent eight years working at Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio Studio) and recorded in Black Box studios in France, the new record is a skilful mix of widescreen scale and magnifying-glass detail, sort of like putting a Herzog still under a microscope. So, you get the self-questioning psychodrama and martial rhythms of the single ‘Finally’, featuring a hackle-raising vocal from Glen Hansard and typically panoramic string arrangement from Colm Mac An Iomaire. You get spiky, nasty pop songs like ‘Fake’ and ‘Underglass’, with its dum-dum bassline worthy of Kim Deal. You get the seraphic boy soprano melodies of ‘Happy’ and ‘Sideways Down’ and the graphic 4am truth-or-dare drinking games of ‘Caution’. And you get epics like ‘Keepsake’, distinguished by the sort of sea change dynamics associated with Mogwai or the Dirty Three. In short, here’s a world where Spector collides with Steve Albini, Arvo Part with Sparklehorse, open-heart surgery songs that deal in love and hate, mourning and ambition, art and blood. But then, The Frames’ career (and one uses the word in terms of careering wildly as much as any overarching strategy) has always followed the music. The platinum-selling For The Birds, released on their own Plateau label in the summer of 2000, marked the end of major label bad marriages, and fired with newfound independence the band set about forging a sound based on fidelity to their instincts. The result: an earthenware collection of skewed avant-folk songs that sounded like they’d been written in a hole in the ground and recorded in some hi-tech coastal cave. Nobody could’ve predicted what happened next. Slowly at first, but with increased velocity over the next year, things began to snowball. The album went from gold to platinum, and in its wake, renewed sales of previous Frames albums such as Fitzcarraldo and Dance The Devil. Somehow The Frames went from being Ireland’s biggest cult act to one of its top selling bands full stop. Plus, they were starting to sell out tours all across Europe, the US and Australia. Glen did a stint presenting the music television series Other Voices: Songs From A Room. Meanwhile back home, they could cherry pick slots on any festival bill they chose to play (particularly memorable were a Dublin Castle headliner and brace of consecutive Witnness sets) and by the summer of 2003, were co-headlining the Lisdoonvarna extravaganza in front of 30,000 people. Funny thing was, they looked like they always belonged on that stage. The Frames were no longer noble underdogs. Now they were the main event. While preparing their fifth studio album, the band released the live album Set List, at last capturing their incendiary stage sound on tape. The Irish public responded by sending it straight to number one in the charts, making it their third platinum album. Hot on its heels, the top five single ‘Fake’ was released in September 03, spending months in the singles charts. 2004 saw The Frames sweep the Hot Press Critics’ and Readers’ Polls, and they also won their first industry gong in the shape of the Meteor Award for Best Irish Band. More to the point, the band confirmed a new international deal with Californian mavericks Anti, arguably the only label in the world that could claim to be the band’s spiritual home, boasting such artists as Tom Waits, Nick Cave and Merle Haggard. They celebrated this by touring America with Damien Rice, and spent the last few months putting the finishing touches to the new album. So, Burn The Maps, is at once a musical tour de force and a statement of intent, an album whose campaign begins with typical Frames-ian audacity – an outdoor headliner at Marlay Park in front of some 17,000 people. “With The Frames, it’s the throwing your arms around the room thing,” says singer/guitarist Glen Hansard. “When our gigs are at their best, you throw the energy out and it gets thrown back twice the size. I mean, I find myself saying things on stage that I would never say in my life, it’s almost like a whole new character or creature is born when you walk on. If you trust in the moment, if you’re willing to be the fool and make the mistake and get it wrong, then you’ve great potential to get it absolutely right. And I think that can be the scary thing about a Frames gig and the great thing about a Frames gig.”
Aversion - "Burn The Maps"
You have to hand it to the United Kingdom: Not only does it create some of the best indie bands around today – think Coldplay, Keane, Snow Patrol, The Delgados and a dozen or so others – but it actually gives those bands the attention they deserve. Here, we’re still caught up on Britney’s short-lived hiatus, the American Idol farce and the return of Motley Crue. The Frames are one of those acts that, were most Yanks not so preoccupied with crap music, would be huge. They’ve already conquered their native Ireland, and the hooky, delicate pop songs on Burn the Maps, vaguely similar to those of Snow Patrol, should, if there’s any justice, make the Dubliners a name in the States. The first Frames studio album to receive decent distribution in the States, Burn the Maps finds the act expertly balancing fragile, spacious stretches against lush, full-blown, anthemic pop that’s somewhere between the arena and the bedroom. The act swings from bristling, big-chorus pop, complete with overdriven guitars to quiet bashful pop without missing a beat on “Fake.” “Sideways Down” switches away from radio pop to adopt a more sophisticated sound where a pair of acoustic guitars and fey vocals keep a string section from becoming too Belle and Sebastian, while “Ship Caught in the Bay” dabbles with electronic noises to augment its hushed dynamics. The Frames always have been masters of the big pop songs as well as the lilting acoustic numbers, but on Burn the Maps, the band finally finds the formula to combine them. “Dream Awake,” building from a fragile guitar-and-voice number into a squall of drums, violin and electric guitars, shows the band’s expert hand at pacing and song structure. The seven-minute “Keepsake” follows much of the same pattern, slowly moving from a nearly twee voice-and-guitar intro to a high-pressure roar with all the presence of a Snow Patrol tune. “A Caution to the Birds” takes a more conventional approach, moving slightly between the band’s crescendo dynamics and up/down arrangements with guitar leads that crackle and bass/guitar melodies that glimmer with all the starry-eyed promises of the best pop. Guitar pop comes in a lot of flavours these days, from college-kid clever and alt-radio catchy to grown-up and introspective. The Frames, who always commanded the former segment, make a play to capture fans of the other two types. Simultaneously weighty and accessible, immediate and intricate, infectious and introspective, Burn the Maps is just what The Frames need to put themselves on the map here in the States. Matt Schild
Pitchfork Media - "Burn The Maps" Feb.2 2005
Lost amidst the large-scale production, Hansard sounds particularly bare. On the earnest "Finally"-- the record's best tune-- the Frames strike the right balance between strangled, melodramatic notes and Hansard's sincere vocals. But most other songs on Burn the Maps suffer from bloated arrangements: The delicate folk of "Trying" gives way to U2 stadium-scraping guitar, and "Fake" leaps from three-week-overdue pauses in its verse into a swaggering chorus. "Dream Awake" and "Keepsake" also reach overwrought climaxes they never deserved. Please, guys, please-- one song without strings in the chorus! Just one. I know you have a violinist in your midst, but there has to be another way to bring the bombastitude. "Ship Caught in the Bay" is an interesting experiment, with an Eastern-tinged drum loop and whispered, suspenseful lyrics. Like every track on the LP, it loudens and widens, but this time it's into a hard drum loop and electronic soundscapes rather than stadium rock. "Underglass"-- the only track that sounds like a rocker from beginning to end-- provides some well-needed catharsis. The Frames could have used more tracks with consistent, engaging tones. Instead Burn the Maps often sounds like simplicity transformed into bloat in an attempt to sound interesting. It rarely works. Instead, most of these tracks simply move from captivating to frustrating to regrettable. Jason Crock | ||
May
26 2005
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