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Aug 23, 2018 Death Cab for Cutie By Stephen Mayne

Age is the great enemy of rock music, or it used to be until all the youthful bands grew old and went on never-ending nostalgia tours. Death Cab for Cutie aren’t close to that, but neither are these Pacific Northwest indie stalwarts bright young things anymore. Active for over two decades, it’s no surprise the spark has died down.

Luckily for Death Cab, this isn’t such a problem. The band fronted by Ben Gibbard have never relied on bursts of adrenaline to drive its music. Melodic compositions featuring an array of instrumentation combine with Gibbard’s soft voice and bittersweet lyrics.

There’s no change on Thank You for Today, a record of soft-emoting, lovelorn stories and a gently rousing fight against encroaching years. You can get that exact thing from any Death Cab for Cutie release, certainly since they found their groove on The Photo Album and perfected it on Transatlanticism and Plans. This, as with its tepid predecessor Kintsugi, is like all that has gone before without the memorable songs.

So, what do we have? “Summer Years” is any pleasant throwaway Gibbard has ever written, “Gold Rush” is the softest of soft indie rock, and “Autumn Love” sounds tailor made to play over a teen soap. There’s not even the hint of a “Black Sun” to add a bit of grit like that single did to the largely lifeless Kintsugi.

Only occasionally does the Gibbard we know and love peek through the syrupy sweetness. “Your Hurricane” hints at it with a quintessential Gibbard line, “I won’t be the debris in your hurricane,” strung between hammy and heartfelt. “When We Drive,” a charming song full of tender vocals, muted instruments, and faraway flourishes, does better.

Then there’s album closer “60 & Punk,” the closest approximate to a standout track. Starting on piano, it weaves through a story of aging and regret, surging past bland pleasantness to something genuinely moving. But it’s too little, too late. For the second record in a row, Death Cab for Cutie are treading water, splashing about in the faded sound of glories past. Someone throw them a life preserver before it’s too late. (www.deathcabforcutie.com)

Author rating: 4.5/10