Since the turn of the millennium, the popular conception of "indie" as an aesthetic has been steadily moving toward an all-out embrace of an inoffensive sound. Nowhere is this more apparent than on last year's year-end lists — Bon Iver, Vampire Weekend, and Fleet Foxes have all been consistently high-ranked. This shift comes after the growing popularity of "NPR indie," with bands like Iron and Wine, The Shins, and My Morning Jacket gaining critical and popular acclaim, and artists like Feist and of Montreal being featured in iPod and Outback Steakhouse ads.
I'm not just another indie snob upset that college kids who consider Broken Social Scene to be edgy and challenging are so willing to say how much they love "indie music." A lot of rock music's finest moments have occurred at the points where the popular and artistically compelling have intersected, from The Beatles to Michael Jackson to The Sex Pistols. And it's not even the commercialization that I really lament; I think it's wonderful that some bands even have the option to end their non-stop touring and actually enjoy the fruits of their labors.
My growing discomfort is simple: I really miss the days when I could reasonably expect to be challenged by indie music, when the tunes were loud and fast and noised-up and funny. (If anyone feels the same, check out Future of the Left's new album [[TMT Review->http://www.tinymixtapes.com/Future-of-the-Left,9106]].) But Desolation Wilderness' latest album, New Universe, is emblematic of this New Indie, floating into space in an indistinct haze that's half dream-pop and half Microphones, charming the listener along the way with indistinct, echo-chamber-reverbed vocals.
New Universe is an obviously Midwestern album, equally suited for and concerned with the forest as the highway. But even slower, more autumnal indie bands like Low or Codeine had sharp edges, a steady-yet-glacial forward thrust. They took sparseness to its logical end, a place where the listener feels nearly abandoned and weightless. Desolation Wilderness' music, however, almost hangs in the air as you listen, in an ambient, easy-listening manner.
I could go into track-by-track analysis, discussing the specifics of each track and how they support my arguments, but the majority of the salient points about New Universe concern it not as an object, but as part of a gradually shifting continuum. If one stripped away the halcyon, indistinct haze and the open-road aesthetic it furthers, you'd be left with precious little, save 10 unobtrusive, well-executed sleep aids. New Universe is its archetype — nothing more, nothing less. Listen to it on the road, outside after a joint or two, or before bed, and it won't fail you. Anytime else, it'll fade into the background like so much mist.
1. Venice Beach
2. Boardwalk Theme
3. Moon Dreams
4. Strange Cool Girl
5. Slow Fade
6. Restless Heart
7. Satellite Song
8. San Francisco 2am
9. You Hold a Power Over Me
10. No Tomorrow [Version]
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