THE DODOS - No Color

Apparently, a lot of people found The Dodos' previous effort, 2009's Time To Die, a bit of a letdown. Even though I wasn't one of them, No Color is without a doubt an improvement over that record. Loose and surprisingly noisy and heavy when so inclined, it's an awfully thrilling album that astutely seizes a moment. For at this point, The Dodos need to solidify their claim to our ears. So fast is the pace of modern pop culture that the praise heaped upon their 2008 breakthrough, Visiter, feels a lifetime away. With new flavours of the month arriving like swarms of aphids, what's a little indie duo to do? You make an album that is catchy and brawny throughout, even when it meanders into extended instrumental passages or folksy finger-picking.

It helps hugely that not only are The Dodos excellent players, but they also have highly distinct voices on their instruments. It's an immense compliment to the talents of guitarist Meric Long and drummer Logan Kroeber that despite playing the two most normal positions in rock, the combined effect rarely sounds like that of any other band. Even the decision to include the mighty Neko Case throughout the record does not derail the band's unique personality. Instead, she finds a perfectly supportive role on tracks like "Don't Try to Hide It"—present, but never in the flashy, scene-stealing way she's so often claimed with the New Pornographers, blending in beautifully.

Which is great news, because after the somewhat-failed experiment of adding a third member during the Time To Die period (vibraphonist Keaton Snyder, who does make contributions to No Color but is no longer a full member), Long and Kroeber now seem to have a full understanding of what makes them so special. They're locked into a syncopated brand of punky, folky pop that is not easily replicated. Hearing the pair blast through the seriously schizo fuzzed-out coda of "Going Under" is to be left without any doubt of their powers. As an album that is both full of energy and highly ruminative, No Color stomps all over the idea that Time To Die’s title was meant literally as any kind of band-ending mandate. Long may they play.