Toronto’s prolific musical output suggests that it’s a great place to experience the variety now offered by indie music, a place where an anaemic-looking trio of weedy teenagers can happily rub shoulders with a bunch of bearded types with 12 backing violinists. The likes of Tokyo Police Club, Born Ruffians, and Broken Social Scene have all built up an individual presence because of the city’s all-encompassing interest in indie music, and this should work to the advantage of Zeus. Founded by childhood friends Mike O’Brien and Carlin Nicholson in 2007 — who both spent time hobnobbing with various local bands such as 6ixty 8ights and The Golden Dogs — Zeus have acquired plenty of experience from the thriving city’s musical landscape.
In principle, this all sounds great. What Zeus have under their belt should set them up for an album of varied delights and interesting quirks throughout: “How Does It Feel?” introduces us to a cabaret of bouncing piano and vocal-driven melody; “Kindergarten” could be lifted directly from Arcade Fire’s Funeral; “Greater Times On The Wayside” is a tremolo-heavy number that recalls Crowded House at their most languid, before sidestepping to a jaunty Led Zeppelin; and “I Know” harnesses a folk edge with space-age synth overtones. While intriguing at first, the wide array of sounds makes clear that Zeus don’t quite have a personality of their own. They’d sound like 13 different bands if it weren’t for the consistency in O’Brien’s meandering tenor, a straight-up set of vocal cords that unfortunately do little to bring the songs to life.
Zeus never offend, but then they never really ignite emotions of any intensity either way. They seem to shave away the potentially offensive characteristics of their influences until we are left with a blunted interpretation. Rather than a band playing ironed and organized ideas like a sharply turned-out cub scout, they pummel us with sounds that distinctly clash. Not only does this occur between songs, but also within songs themselves. Sure, it can be a glorious thing when an implausible set of styles combine to create something fresh and original, but the fusion that Zeus attempts here sounds like the disconnected collection of ideas they brought to the album in the first place.
This said, there are glimpses of gems buried deep within this record. “Fever Of The Time” has a bounding, catchy chorus that challenges O’Briens highest vocal capabilities when he ascends arpeggios to a falsetto, while the reverb-drenched piano on “Heavy On Me” creeps into your consciousness with admirable subtlety. But these passages are difficult to find, concealed down ravines of tedium. If O’Brien and Nicholson could take a step back and observe the way their Toronto contemporaries carve their own individual flavor of indie music, then perhaps they’d be situated in a unique place amongst their contemporaries. Zeus speak on their website of a “desire to touch a soul and lift a spirit.” I hope they achieve this someday.