Control

An indie rocker unafraid of hiding his own faith, Pedro the Lion's David Bazan writes 4-minute sonic morality plays about the lives of lost souls futilely walking blindly into the dark void, feeling their ways along the walls of morality without a religious flashlight. Never preachy, he gives you the facts and leaves the judgment up to someone else -- someone a little higher up, so to speak. The middle-class suburbanites in his songs never seem to make the right choices while they stumble through their flawed lives.

Unlike his early folky stuff, Control resembles Bazan's last Jade Tree outing but rocks even harder and darker, reminiscent of Bob Mould's Black Sheets of Rain. When he lightens up, the music pops, though the message stays consistently bleak.

Infidelity and its consequences are the underlying themes this time 'round. Every deceit is overshadowed by guilt and retribution. "Rehearsal" finds the narrator more upset about the triteness of his lover's infidelity than the act itself, with him threatening to match hers with his own trite actions -- by killing her. The plodding, dark "Second Best" emotes the sexual futility of a used-up relationship, while "Priests and Paramedics" recaps a wife murdering her husband, his death and funeral all to a cool, jumpy beat.

In between the infidelities are a couple comments about failure and futility in a corporate world. "Penetration," is Bazan's update on Pink Floyd's "Have a Cigar," with the record executive telling it like it is: "If it isn't making dollars / Than it isn't making sense / If you aren't moving units / Then you're not worth the expense" ending with the advice: "If you want to make it / You had best remember this / If it isn't penetration / Then it isn't worth a kiss."

Bazan rarely strays from his dry-as-dust singing approach, sounding like a low-voiced, sober Mark Kozelek.

Does he leave you with hope? On the funereal closer, "Rejoice," Bazan sings "Wouldn't it be so wonderful / If everything were meaningless / But everything is so meaningful / And most everything turns to shit / Rejoice." Not exactly uplifting, but Bazan rarely is. Taken as a whole, Control is a driving masterpiece of pure indie rock melded with a dreadful message that is unforgettable.

back to   Published in The Omaha Weekly July 31, 2002. Copyright © 2002 Tim McMahan. All rights reserved.