Cold War Kids Should've Taken Care Of First Things First

Repetition's a great tool for learning things. In fact it's how I learned a good many things as a lad. Long Beach denizens Cold War Kids don't win brownie points for repetition. That doesn't work so well in sculpting a tune capable of doing anything other than annoy potential audiences. The pieces fit together nicely. What those pieces are conveying barely registers a blip on the radar. Joe Plummer drums his little heart out. Bully for him. He's plastering over what his band buds aren't communicating so adroitly. Matt Maust offers little to gripe about. The bass has mean intention scrawled over it. Ditto for lead guitarist Dann Gallucci. He goes along his chosen path with nary a concern to ask why he's doing it. Standing out front we get Nathan Willett. The ebb and flow goes on his shoulders. Frankly ebb and flow would have been nicer compared to what the song "First" places before us. The combined noise isn't unlike one of those singular dimension marching bands that kick drums itself down the street with purpose but not much buoyed interest level. The Allandale Neighborhood has a legendary 4th of July parade which takes months to plan but makes you pay for taking a bathroom break. "First" doesn't wow the same way. Give Nathan a hug. The troubled soul cries out for it verse after verse. The linchpin gripping the pieces together? Playing and falling hard in a lover's game where trust becomes the usurped prize and worry the primarily unhelpful aftershock. Usually I'm not a stickler for vastly deep meaning but "First" requires it to overcome the dearth of chord creativity on the table. Nathan thrives in the whole bar hopper climate. His lady love doesn't fare much better. I give a supportive nod to the polar opposite psychic baggage Nathan writes in verse three. He's "flying like a cannonball, falling to the earth. Heavy as a feather when you hit the dirt." Nathan gets that the waiting game can be excruciatingly cumbersome. He refuses to wait around forever. That's reassuring. Who among us wants to endure that. Nathan etches his dark night of the soul poet side into the turf. Back we go to ticking clocks and gravity's inevitable victory. Again, I beseech someone give Nathan a hug. an anxiety drug supplier, or both. He deserves it because if you were to subtract him from the mishmash "First" wouldn't place or show in this race to get to consumers shortening attention spans before the next big thing taps into the picture. "First you get hurt, then you feel sorry." That's your drill into the brain recurring theme. Noble? Maybe. A bit of excessive protestation? You might say that. Place blame wherever it's appropriate but "First" loses its edge in a hurry and never finds the handle again. The foursome's nothing if not eager to lay out its harshest sound so as to mark a none too quick to exit the cranium impression. The clanging cacophony angle works against them. "First" isn't primed to last. The Cold War chill factor is unavoidable.