David Bazan
Fewer Moving Parts EP
Barsuk Records
By Justin Porter Stephens
The most curious thing about David Bazan’s debut solo release Fewer Moving Parts EP is that it’s not actually an EP at all. Or even a debut. Bazan—who, along with a continuous flow of back-up musicians, released four albums over the past decade as Pedro the Lion and a fifth with his band, Headphones—has recorded ten tracks, two takes on five songs, clocking in at 12-inches of vinyl requiring 34:23. Not that I’ve ever quite understood EPs and their whole less-than-half-the-music-of-an-LP-for-two-thirds-the-price logic to begin with.
Bazan’s songs here are still grumpy and droney, rife with literal political and religious references, so fans of Pedro will feel at home. In fact, “Backwoods Nation” was previously released under his former handle on a Jade Tree compilation and a demo of “Cold Beer and Cigarettes,” under the alternate title “The Devil is Beating His Wife,” found its way onto various P2P networks. Encouragingly, “How I Remember” strays a little from the traditional PTL formula -- it’s the closest thing to power-pop Bazan has done and even has a neat new wave synth solo. “Cold Beer and Cigarettes” has the same feel, though at a slower tempo, but it’s bogged down by its disturbing thematic explorations of violence and sexuality.
Unfortunately, Bazan is up to his old tricks on the majority of the record. In five songs he manages to insult a wide range of listeners, from residents of rural areas to fraternity brothers, mocking “rednecks” to “pick up machine guns and kill camelfuckers” and “calling all fratboys to trade in their hazing, their keggers and cocaine and casual date raping” in the aforementioned “Backwoods Nation.” He also takes on record critics (thanks Dave) on “Selling Advertising,” telling us that “you’re so creative with your reviews of what other people do / How satisfying it must be for you.” Bazan thinks he’s being edgy here, but he’s really just being a sore sport. There are also the second versions of each song, but they’re acoustic takes that resemble mastered demos more than anything else. So much that you’ll probably pass on a second listen of them, as you have the studio versions on the very same disc.
It’s disappointing that Bazan continues the same slumping pattern he’s been stuck in since Control. His split with long time contributor Tim Walsh and retiring of the Pedro the Lion alias seemed to have hinted at a change. In the end, this release suffers from the same problems that plagued the later Pedro the Lion records. Bazan manages to come off as insulting, bored and vaguely depressed all at once, leaving his listeners to feel the same. It’s often hard to tell if his lyrics are meant to be ironic or not; though either way they’re just intellectually superficial jabs.
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