Bear Hands Not Worth A Listen Any Time Of Day

One ripple on the ocean...drawn out painfully slow. That's the gist of "2AM", the new single from Brooklyn post punk outfit Bear Hands. About the kindest thing I can say about it is Val Loper lays down some fairly impressive bass work. Sad to say the musicianship gets drowned out by the sinking Titanic depressing lyrics. Don't recommend this to a depressed friend looking for any plausible excuse to off himself. He'll be Hamburger Helper by dawn. If you haven't been living under a rock lately you've been noticing that the survival rate for esteemed social hangouts appears to be getting less and less pronounced all the time. No matter where you're from I'm willing to bet you've recently mourned the loss of a beloved watering hole that was sacked in the flimsy excuse name of "That's the price of progress". Here in the ATX corridor so many restaurants, both long standing and in the infant stage, have been shuttered I'd need Tylenol to get through a detailed explanation. Leave it to vocalist/guitarist Dylan Rau to strike the raw nerve that's pinched us all a time or three. His pre-chorus whining isn't doing too much for my personal buzz at present. Think about that. I haven't even hit the main chorus and already I sense a definite grounds for chronic depression entering the picture. The whole pre-chorus makes you think "I sure as hell don't want to hang with this dude. He needs to either lighten up or find better drugs to simulate the euphoria." Here it now is in all of its autopsy heightening splendor. "All your friends are sober. Yeah we're getting older. Going out's a drag now. All my spots have closed now, and we can fantasize without much of a mess. And making love is fine but all I want is to forget how old I am." For starters, what a terrible message for the tribe you may have helped sire. "Hey kids, if you're not inebriated, life isn't any fun." Too bad you conveniently left out the part about how being wrapped around your car steering wheel flirting with critical condition because you went on a drunken bender to top all benders isn't particularly fun either. Secondly, how very rude to stare at your own existentially minded navel rather than make love to your wife in a masculine manner. She probably wasn't rooting for this trajectory when she signed on for the whole marriage covenant thing. That line of self-loathing totally obscures the musical chops on display here. When Dylan the Dismal is too busy making you want to visit asphyxiation station, who's got head space to spend on...oh...I don't know...guitars, bass, drums...minor trifles such as those. If I had breathing room to clearly plug into the instruments on a basic level, I could possibly extend my kindnesses further than mere bass playing. Another quibble I have revolves around the song length. Close to five minutes is too long for something better explored in private on a psychiatrist's couch. That way his very obvious drama doesn't bleed all over me. TJ Orscher drums admirably, but admirably is the sort of word you reserve for a kind Boy Scout helping a nice old lady across the street, not for a post punk band's skin basher. The moniker Bear Hands is a cute use of a homymym. Would that the cuteness factor had trickled down to the song itself. C'est la vie. As it stands "2 AM" isn't the type of song worth listening to at any hour of the day.