Vampire Weekend out of the coffin with debut

The clever indie rock album has received many glowing reviews.

By Patrick Daugherty

Published Feb. 5, 2008

Them’s Vampire Weekend sure is everybody’s favorites these days, aren’t they? For starters, they have the greatest band name since at least Fuck Buttons.

And as you surely already know (if you are a self-respecting reader of Pitchfork), enough ink has been used on glowing write-ups in Rolling Stone, Blender, Spin, Billboard and the aforementioned Pitchfork, to set back the environmental movement 20 years.

And now they have the glowing reviews to match and an appearance on David Letterman under their belts.

They’ve hit the big time and burrowed into our hearts before even one sales week for their self-titled debut has passed.

So, just in case you don’t know, Vampire Weekend consists of four Ivy League educated brats, (albeit from second-tier Columbia – I sneer at thee) heavily influenced by the clean guitar sounds and concise arrangements of The Strokes.

But alas, as one would expect with this much hype, there’s a twist — they take those principles and mix them with calypso and Afrobeat, and their album has drawn many comparisons to Paul Simon’s 1986 ... err ... triumph, Graceland.

Apparently Mr. Not Garfunkel has the only successful Afrobeat album ever and is the only point of reference us music press have for this wacky (!) new sound.

The truth is, while there is more than one flourish of that beloved beat of the Afros, what Vampire Weekend really has here is one of the best college rock albums of the last 15 years (at least that’s what people used to call Indie).

College really is the more applicable term here though, as the album practically bleeds argyle sweaters and Wes Anderson references.

Normally, this would be a sign to head for the hills, as would song titles like “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” and lyrics like “The Bottleneck is a shit-show/Hyannisport is a ghetto.” But like all great artists, they take their background, no matter how elite or how poor, and make it relatable.

It is true that the preppiness of it all is a little overwhelming and resent-creating at first, but after two or three complete listens, you too will be hoping the namesake in “Walcott” can get the fuck at out of Cape Cod, if only for the night.

Vampire Weekend has created an album impossible to deny or dismiss, rich east coast silver-spooners or not.

They are just too damn sincere, clever and talented for anyone with half a brain not to be able to get past their posh upbringing or similarities to yesterday’s rich whipping boys, The Strokes.

Opener “Mansard Roof” is the epitome of what makes these newbies so good — the cleanest guitar tone this side of Jerry Garcia, propulsive drumming, distinctive singing and a melody so pleasant and immediate, you’ll never confuse it with any of the songs that follow. Save for the achingly annoying “One (Blake’s Got A New Face)” (nobody’s perfect), they are all incredibly memorable.

In brief, this is probably the best debut from an Indie band — or any band – since Is This It. This is it, again.