Review: So Cow - The Long Con
By Marc Blanc, Contributor
[Goner; 2014]
Rating: 5.5/10
Key Tracks: “Operating at a Loss,” “To Be Confirmed”
Perhaps the lyrics aren’t as brilliant as James Joyce prose, but several verses on the The Long Con are certainly as ambiguous as some of the Irish modernist’s work. In order to piece together a sad narrative about an old Millennial coping badly with becoming the “adult generation,” one must rummage through dense lines that presumably made sense in singer/guitarist Brian Kelly’s mind. High school prize winners like, “I am a group of men / here to fight against dreams” (“Vigilanti Cura”) and the impossible to explain using context clues conceit in “Sugar Factory” confuse meaning and accessibility throughout the album.
Really, questions arise immediately about the latest from Ireland’s own So Cow. What does the cover mean? Why is the production value raised when the band still plays low-fi garage punk? Is So Cow trying to subvert rock ‘n’ roll with outsider punk songs like “Get Down off That Thing” or rescue it with stale Strokes imitations like “I Want Out?”
Paradox defines the record, as its greatest wonder is also its greatest frustration: Singer/guitarist Brian Kelly and his boys have somehow crafted something homogenous yet disjointed. Kelly’s constant monotone mumble-song blurs track numbers even after a handful of spins. But many songs have flavors that don’t agree, raising the concerning question of why a band formed in 2006 still seems to be identifying its sound.
Take the second song, “Science Fiction,” a melancholy number enhanced by a video game-y synth reminiscent of The Anniversary. Before disappearing completely, the keyboard returns once more four tracks later, on the derivative “Vigilanti Cura,” but in the form of a slow organ that is nothing more than an echo of classic rock corpses.
So Cow has no problem putting a surf-punk jam (“Say Hello”) next to the Blue Oyster Cult-ish “Vigilanti Cura.” Eclecticism is a minefield. A musician must have the ability to work the range, or one mediocre song in the wrong style will blow an album’s general tone to unrecognizable bits.
The Long Con fails to keep stripped-down, three-chord garage engaging. Nearly every song is structured for a ten to fifteen second instrumental filler (not counting solos) that rarely come off as anything but gratuitous and repetitive. Most people weren’t calling for a garage-punk jam band, but So Cow comes uncomfortably close.
It’s like walking through a house, visiting distinct rooms, but each room has the same wallpaper yellowed by cigarette smoke. And you know you’re walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, but you know the kitchen will have the same wallpaper. When considering the culmination of all that wallpaper, note only two songs out of thirteen run above the 3-minutes and 30-second range.
Inklings of brilliance exist here, but they’re just that. “Operating at a Loss” has a couple guitar hooks that match a good distorted Dinosaur Jr. song. Kelly finally does something different with his voice on “Turning Into You,” even if it is an obvious Jawbreaker impression. And “To Be Confirmed” is arguably the most realized track, exhibiting a mastery of jangly pessimism-pop and one of the only melodies fertile enough to plant a healthy seed in the listener’s mind.
So Cow has regressed from its daring 2009 self-titled LP. Its recent confusion embodies Joyce’s density without the genius to back it up and the Dead Milkmen’s amateurity without the unique character to make it endearing. Stylistic simplicity is no excuse for an uninspired effort.
