You Can Have What You Want

Papercuts make the kind of albums that are easy to ignore or write off as simple and unchallenging indie pop. The smooth textures and gentle surfaces of the production, the breezy melodies of the songs, and the quiet sweetness of Jason Quever's vocals and lyrics don't overwhelm or stand up and demand attention; instead they kind of seep into the pleasure center of your brain if you want them to. The two albums previous to You Can Have What You Want were bright and sunny, but very calm and almost serene. This record isn't much different -- maybe a little more layered and gauzy at times, but still overflowing with pleasant melodies and nice sounds. Quever as always sings the lyrics as if in a dream, drifting over the rich arrangements with a light and feathery touch that brings to mind a collegiate and slightly shaky Colin Blunstone (or a less shaky early Neil Young.) He doesn't bowl you over with emotion but he conveys great feeling in his limited range, and on some of the songs, he comes close to breaking hearts with his boyish sincerity. Other times, he captures the ominous spookiness of the lyrics perfectly with his hushed and near conversational singing. Indeed the album seems to be a concept album about a possibly post-apocalyptic world full of suffering and weirdness, which is quite different from the previous album's subject matter. Quever keeps things pretty obscure and hinted at; he's not beating you over the head with any great statements. Again, he's letting the message sneak into your brain quietly and wrapping it in lovely arrangements that would sound good no matter what he was singing about. In that regard, Papercuts are very much like fellow low-key weirdos Grandaddy and Midlake. You Can Have What You Want falls a little short of the last record, Can't Go Back, just because it isn't as jaunty or light-hearted, but it is still an impressive work that should go a ways in providing some proof that the band has more depth and power than one might have thought if they just stuck to the surface. ~ Tim Sendra