Aside from "Freebird," there's one in-concert request no band ever wants to hear from its audience: "Play some old songs."
It is not time to shout these kinds of things at Guster. The band's latest album, "Ganging Up on the Sun," continues to expand the group's college rock roots into a fuller pop sound that not even the most curmudgeonly fan should deny.
There are sounds on "Ganging Up on the Sun" that would be inconceivable on previous Guster releases, most evident in the seven-minute-plus centerpiece "Ruby Falls," during which a simple voice-and-guitar intro is built upon by the clanging of more guitars, the crashing of cymbals and the swelling of organ and multi-tracked harmonies. Just when the song should end, it switches up on itself, giving way to an outro that floats on waves of female vocals and trumpet soloing.
"Ruby Falls" lays the exposition for the album's dreamy second act; the first six tracks of "Ganging Up on the Sun" are more of a mixed bag of styles and instantly familiar melodies. "Manifest Destiny" bounces along on some punchy piano, "Satellite" is a jangly number with too-infrequent interludes of carnival organ, while "The Captain" was clearly born a rambling man.
It's on these tracks that the band's expanded arrangements really shine. It would have been really easy for the boys in Guster to say, "Hey, we want a bigger sound, so let's throw as many instruments on these songs as possible!" They do, but in a most subtle way. Long-time fans may cry foul at the heavy restrictions placed on Brian Rosenworcel's signature hand percussion, but in the context of these songs, the congas and bongos really work better in an ornamental function.
The subtle arrangements are mirrored in the lyrical themes of uncertainty and instability. There's plenty of searching for and questioning of higher powers in this haze — captains, judges and authors are all called out — but it's all timelessly abstract. Thankfully, only on "Empire State" is this commentary seemingly directed at the easy target of post-9/11 America.
"One Man Wrecking Machine" adeptly questions the logic in looking to the past to find solid ground. Though Ryan Miller sings, "Here in the present tense/Nothing is making sense," his narrator realizes that as comfortable as he was back in the day, there was still a lot of crap to wade through.
"Ganging Up on the Sun" is an album full of big questions, but short on big answers. This would work better if the album didn't conclude with "Hold On," a shrugging sentiment akin to the ubiquitous "Hang in there" poster of a cat clinging to a tree branch.
In the context of this album, everyone feels like that cat from time to time. But if you're in that situation, do you really need to be told to "hold on"?
With "Ganging Up on the Sun," Guster risks alienating those fans who are moved to scream at the band for older material. But if those fans shut their mouths and listen, they'll discover the band they love is still there — it's only painting with a broader sonic palette.
