We’ve been hearing that rock ‘n’ roll is dead for decades, but really the genre is just ever-changing. The thing is, music is easier to define in retrospect. The ’80s had heavy metal, the ’90s had grunge, but it’s difficult to pin down what rock and roll means for the 2000s.

One band that’s trying to be a part of that conversation is Young the Giant. The California natives released their sophomore album, “Mind Over Matter,” on Jan. 21. The follow-up to their 2010 self-titled debut album shows growth, but at a snail’s pace.

The album starts off with a 48-second introduction track called “Slow Dive,” which, despite its simplicity, pretty much sets the stage for what’s to come. It fades in from nothing and grows into a synth-y wall of sound that leads right into “Anagram.” Sameer Gadhia’s vocals seamlessly flow from a smooth middle register to sweet falsetto.

Unfortunately, his vocals are not supported by strong lyrics or song structure. Throughout the album, Gadhia’s lyrics are laced with nostalgia and youth, but they don’t say anything substantial. A lack of specificity in the writing leads to a lack of personality. I have no idea who Sameer Gadhia is after listening to the album.

“Anagram” is followed by the album’s lead single, “It’s About Time.” One of its heavier songs, the track features a riff that’s fun to listen to in the moment, but it’s ultimately forgettable. Even their heavy songs like this one sound uneventful, even though all the rock ‘n’ roll elements are there. They’ve got fuzzy electric guitars, bombastic drums and a vocalist who’s not afraid to let some gravel in his voice now and then.

The songs are always right on the cusp of real rock ‘n’ roll energy. At the end of “It’s About Time,” you just wish they would have let loose a little more.

The second single, “Crystallized,” is the first love song on the album. But the song suffers from the same vague lyrics that keep the rest of the tracks from greatness. It’s not a love song that makes you think of your own special someone. It feels cold, impersonal and safe.

Gadhia sings, “When the beat of my drum, meets the beat of your heart, you know I couldn’t love any other, any other,” but he never explains why he feels this way. We get no sense of what makes his love interest so great, so we’re not invested in the story.

The first song that meets the band’s potential is “Firelight,” a wispy ballad featuring a clean, warm guitar tone just reverberant enough to give the track a full, rich sound. Gadhia’s lyrics are still vague, but the listener gets a better idea of what the song is about. It sounds like his reaction to a loved one’s death. “Tell my friends I’m gone, it’s true, I’ve passed on now, to the eyes of a dark, lost blue,” Gadhia sings.

He seems to switch perspectives at the chorus, one of the best examples of visual writing. “I don’t believe you, I’m in a parachute, falling in deep sleep,” he sings. The words just paint pictures in your mind, and the sweeping but simple music behind it only makes for a more beautiful experience.

But other than “Firelight,” Young the Giant just isn’t able to create a memorable song. The problem lies in the album’s mediocrity. For one thing, there isn’t enough of a stylistic or dynamic range. There aren’t any bad songs on the album, but there’s only one truly good, memorable song. The instrumentation, structure and vocal delivery are largely the same.

The listener just coasts through the 13 songs and feels no differently after. We learn nothing about the band or ourselves, we just hear some decent tunes that we will promptly forget.

With more candid lyrics and the bravery to take risks by changing up instrumentation and song structure, Young the Giant could be the one band to save this decade’s incarnation of rock ‘n’ roll. Without all of those elements, the group will exist in a musical limbo. They won’t produce anything totally awful, but they won’t be remembered either.

Published on January 27, 2014 at 9:43 pm

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