Pitchfork

This year has been stuffed with bands exemplifying the sort of adjectives that give critics a bad name: angular, sharp, spastic-- basically, shorthand phrases that don't actually do much to convey the sound of a record to the reader. Moreover, comparisons to Brainiac or Fugazi can only go so far. And with Ad Astra Per Aspera-- as well as plenty of others-- even though they pull from those influences, they never exactly sound like the bands. Sometimes what separates one band's sound from another is just out of reach, something you can't quite place. So while there are moments on Catapult Calypso that sound reminiscent, chalk it up to similarities in approach rather than a lack of originality. Because if there's one thing this band's got plenty of, it's originality.

How many rock records have you heard recently that infuse screamy post-hardcore with melodies that sound like castoffs from Fiddler on the Roof? Probably not many, and for good reason. But Ad Astra Per Aspera pull it off here and there. There's a little bit of everything in this mish-mash, and sometimes it works better than others. The disc's first track, "Voodoo Economics", bounces from spacious indie rock to disco-punk within the first minute, mixing dreamy female vocals with ferocious male screams. From there we're thrown into "Post-Scarcity Sing-a-Long"-- Latin-tinged indie pop that, despite the name, doesn't offer much in the way of a sing-a-long.

Those songs showcase the band's ability to effortlessly switch between anger and sweetness, so it's a shame that the group also seems to trade in memorable melodies for musical oddities. This is especially a problem in the album's middle section. "Unnamed Acoustic Songs" features a sitar, but that might be the only thing to make it stick in your mind, as it's essentially the same line repeated ad nauseam over acoustic strumming and, well, then there's the sitar. "Glosbos Illuminados" is a generic, noisy blues number that sounds like the song during which you hit the bathroom and then grab a beer. Even worse, the band forays into honky-tonk with "Everybody Lets Me Down", complete with tinkling piano and banjo. It's not that there's anything wrong with tinkling piano and banjo; it's just that it starts to feel like the band has an identity crisis after a few of these departures.

But by "The Romantic One", things are back on track, and even though the track has a little in common with "Glosbos Illuminados", this time the cyclical guitar in the background and vocal shrieks pull it out of the barroom muck. "Flannery's Coming Home", the album's funky and melodic closer, is the most uplifting track here, ending things on a positive note. Any band that leans this heavily on experimentation is bound to have a few failures. But we try to forgive and move on, and focus on the successes. With Catapult Calypso, you might be bored by the lows, but that only makes the highs that much higher.