Fog
Ether Teeth
Ninja Tune
If there's something to be understood of the
contrariness of the words that comprise the title of Fog's latest, then perhaps it's that Fog's
mastermind, Andrew Broder of Minneapolis, would like for Ether Teeth to bite us to
sleep; chomp us softly, see? Ether is, when you
really get down to it, a gas that is soft and airy and can knock you unconscious. Teeth are bone
and are typically hard and used for biting things. And there must be something to this theory because there's a bird
on the cover of the album. Now, it could just be that Broder likes birds. But birds can fly
(they're airy) and they can bite (they have pointy beaks, anyway), which makes them pretty good
mascots for Ether Teeth.
As it were, Ether Teeth is a collection of take-offs and landings, not too
unlike the self-titled debut that traipsed between lo-fi pop (the self-deprecating and catchy
"Pneumonia") and frenetic DJ instrumentals (the scatterbrained
pluckiness that is "Check Fraud"),
sometimes combining the two. When Broder lets the noises take over, as on album-opener "Plum Dumb," the songs
soar through fragile, lulling atmospheres composed of tiny blips, tinkling piano and
faint vinyl scratches that sound, perhaps, like a little bird wheezing. When Broder blurts, and the
scratches and samples feature prominently,
as on the indiepoppy "What-a-Day Day," (think Elephant Six)
the sounds are a bit more earthly.
But within each track, there's a bit of both the above and below. This blend works best on the album's
center cuts, "CheerupCheerily" and "Under a Anvil Tree." In the former, a
Marty Stouffer-type
guy provides nature documentary voice-overs about robins while said birds twitter above somber strings and oboes,
and irregular beats chug below plodding piano chords and a thin, mysterious wail. The latter
consists of sparse guitars and Brooder, oops, Broder plaintively speak-singing,
"I'm a total wreck when you don't call" and "One day a dump truck will dump two tons of kittens on me"
until the song swells into
a quick I'm-it-you're-it game between the lines, "at night all bite no bark" and "after dark
all bark no bite." Neither song skimps on the sullen.
And for that matter, neither does the rest of the album. There's straightforward sulk ("See It? See It?" and
"I Call This Song Old Tyme Dudes") and the less conspicuous ("The Girl from the Gum Commercial" and
"WallpaperSinkorSwim"). But with Broder pulling you both up with strings
and down with words, or the other way around, Ether Teeth leaves you wallowing somewhere
in the middle, which could make for boring listening.
Let's just admit it, then: Ether Teeth can be dull if you're paying too much attention to
it. It even creeps dangerously close to
being a little too precious, what with its kittens and birds and all. You're not meant to
listen too closely, though — just as you shouldn't hone in on birds chirping (it'll drive
you crazy). This is ether, remember?
— Lavina Lee (lavina at flakmag dot com)
