It's a sad fact that there isn't much air-instrumentable indie rock being released these days. As bands continue to trade in broad aesthetic gestures, musical ineptitude, and countless wink-and-nod references to their canonized forebears, exuberance and musicality sometimes seem to fall by the wayside. Without question, there are bands making new and exciting music, but precious little of it doesn't contain some kind of self-aware nod to its own greatness; some attempt to escape and exceed the bare facts of the music itself.
Those who have grown accustomed to indie rock of the vague and yelpy variety will likely be confused if not downright repelled by Better Days Will Haunt You. The new collection compiles Chavez's entire recorded output on two remastered, chronologically arranged CDs, implicitly tracing the band's development over their all-too-brief three-year career. Chavez never really did "evocative"-- on the band's two excellent Matador full-lengths, the sonics were loud and compressed, the arrangements were straightforward and bare-bones, and Matt Sweeney's voice was unspectacularly gravelly-nasally. Like many of their heart-on-sleeve, guitar-slinging indie rock contemporaries, Chavez were the kind of band that would likely be written off as "boring," "MOR," or even "embarrassing" by many of today's fans.
It's a shame, too, because beneath the band's almost alternative rock aesthetic lie some of the most exciting rock songs of the last decade. As with many great indie rock bands, Chavez are better described as the sum of their individual players than as the sum of their influences. Sweeney and guitarist Clay Tarver trade biting, fractured top-three-strings riffs that expertly accumulate and release harmonic tension. Scott Masciarelli anchors the frenetic guitars with monolithic bass notes and well-placed silences. Drummer "The" James Lo is, as his credited nickname suggests, absolutely singular, building layer upon layer of rhythmic force and complexity without ever coming off as contrived or showy.
Chavez's debut single "Repeat the Ending" and album Gone Glimmering are a bit scrappier than their sophomore opus Ride the Fader; the angularity of Sweeney and Tarver's guitars is a little more obvious, and the vocal melodies aren't quite as strong. Still, the band's energy carries most of this material. Standouts "Break Up Your Band" and "Pentagram Ring" bring to mind the best of Smashing Pumpkins, squealing and careening with just the right combination of pop and swagger.
With Ride the Fader, included here on Disc Two, the band truly hits their stride. Aside fom Archers of Loaf's Icky Mettle, I'm hard pressed to think of an indie rock album that starts off stronger than the one-two punch of "Top Pocket Man" and "The Guard Attacks". Quasi-ballad "Unreal Is Here" is basically a well-recorded Guided by Voices song, all chiming guitars and off-kilter melody. "New Room" moves seamlessly from understated, minor-key guitars to one of the band's most bombastic endings, featuring some of the greatest drum fills ever laid to tape. Throughout Ride the Fader, Chavez demonstrate a remarkable degree of restraint and consideration, holding back when necessary and giving their best musical ideas room to breathe and resonate. While much of the album doesn't jump out of your speakers with the same frenzied energy as Gone Glimmering, it ultimately hits much harder.
Non-album tracks are few and not terribly surprising; Schoolhouse Rocks! Rocks song "Little 12 Toes" and What's Up Matador cut "Theme From 'For Russ'" are kitschy oddities, and the previously unreleased "White Jeans" is on par with the band's less exciting album tracks. The DVD content, featuring two hilarious videos and a slightly less hilarious European tour diary, is entertaining if not particularly earth-shattering. In a sense, Chavez come off as the opposite of many of today's more career-focused indie bands, passionate and serious in their music but humorous and self-effacing in their overall approach. The box set's minimal, scrapbook-like packaging is thorough and respectful; no self-important statement from the band, no masturbatory essay by a big name rock critic, just a smattering of photos and album art. I couldn't think of a more appropriate tribute to a band that was always willing to let their music speak for itself. A decade later, it still speaks volumes.
