Japandroids’ Celebration Rock Is a Small Miracle
The post Japandroids’ Celebration Rock Is a Small Miracle appeared first on Consequence.
Japandroids have officially decided to call it quits following their next album, Fate and Alcohol. To celebrate the Canadian duo, we’re reflecting on their magnum opus, 2012’s Celebration Rock.
The fact that Celebration Rock exists at all is something of a small miracle. In the six years between guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse forming Japandroids and the release of the record, the duo could have (and almost did) call it quits on several occasions. And yet, they somehow managed to pull together a modern classic with little more than grit, a six-pack of cold ones, and high-fives so powerful they sounded like fireworks.
Such perseverance (and the fireworks) can be heard immediately on opener “The Night of Wine and Roses,” which starts far away and obscured before rushing into focus with a triumphant guitar line and King shouting what’s more or less Celebration Rock’s mission statement: “Long lit up tonight and still drinking/ Don’t we have anything to live for?/ Well, of course we do/ But ‘til they come true we’re drinking/ And we’re still smoking.”
Japandroids, as an entity, had found themselves something to live for with Celebration Rock — and yet, it almost didn’t happen. By the time the band’s exhilarating 2009 debut Post-Nothing finally brought them something of a spotlight, they had already resigned to it being their last hurrah.
“We were very dedicated to the band for a number of years before anything, really, kind of happened,” Prowse told Consequence. “Recording; self-releasing EPs; setting up all our own shows; renting out halls; making and printing our own posters, and postering for every show we played; setting up small little tours, just runs to Seattle and back, and Victoria and back, Calgary and back. That kind of thing.”
“There was no inkling that anybody had any interest in putting out our record. Not even locally, not even any local labels,” he continued. “There was zero interest.”
By all accounts, Post-Nothing was set to be more of the same. But just as they started to float the idea that this whole Japandroids thing had run its course, the work finally paid off. Glowing write-ups on music blogs led the band from the verge of collapse to booking gigs across the globe.
Of course, as exciting as finally finding an audience was, it didn’t shield them from further tribulations. While the newfound interest in their music was thrilling enough to extend King and Prowse’s creative partnership, some of their hardest challenges still awaited them, including a health scare and a disillusioned return to Vancouver after two years on the road. But the pair had since linked up with Polyvinyl, and so the expectation of a sophomore effort loomed as the 2010s began.
Japandroids bided their time with a grueling string of shows and choice single releases. One of those, “Younger Us,” would even go on to make the album, and not only because of its propulsive, anthemic feel. The track might be as pure of a statement of self as Japandroids ever put out, attempting to recapture, not youth’s innocence, but its rebellious energy.
“Remember when we had them all on the run/ And the night we saw the midnight sun/ Remember saying things like we’ll sleep when we’re dead/ And thinking this feeling was never going to end,” King snarls out of both nostalgia and desperation. “Remember that night you were already in bed/ Said fuck it, got up to drink with me instead.”
But one killer song does not an album make. So, King and Prowse set out to make the record they never thought would exist.
On paper, Japandroids looked to recreate the magic of Post-Nothing by retracing their steps, bringing back the same personnel, retaining the same basic instrumentation of guitar and drums, and recording in the same space, Vancouver’s now-defunct Hive Creative Labs. Yet, as much as they retreated to familiarity, they had to confront the reality that they were different people operating under very different circumstances. With more ears and interested parties came new levels of pressure. For the first time, they went into the studio knowing their songs would be heard by more than a couple friends.
Such pressure extended to their playing as well. Part of Post-Nothing’s charm came from its raw, slightly messy performances; it was imperfect in all of the right ways. For the recordings that would become Celebration Rock, however, a similar sloppiness wouldn’t be nearly as lovable — and they knew it. They were no longer a couple of punks laying it all out on the line for nobody but themselves. Now, they were buzzy indie rockers with fans across the world who play music for a living. Flubbed notes wouldn’t hit the same.
With all of that in mind, what resulted was a bout of intense writer’s block, a stint made all the worse by the band’s self-imposed high standards. Polyvinyl had given King and Prowse as much freedom and space as any band in the 21st century could want, but the songs simply weren’t coming together at the pace they had hoped.
Even prior to their quick ascent, the duo had never been particularly prolific. In fact, while they took great care in their ultimate output, songwriting and recording were more of a means to an end than a great passion, a necessary step to get back on the road and play live. By their own admission, the devil didn’t give them his book of tunes to pull from. For them, crafting a track was real, not always enjoyable work — but they’d be damned if they weren’t going to put that work in.
“Jack White became that because he’s Jack White,” King reflected in an interview with Pitchfork. “The guy just has that special thing. People like us cannot aspire to be that; you have to accept that it’s OK not to be a Jack White. It’s unfair to put that burden on yourself.”
“There’s a difference between people who are born with that special thing and people who love the people who are born with that special thing so much that they want to try their best to get as close as they can to it. I don’t consider myself to be a very creative person. We have to work really, really hard to write a song we think is really good,” he continued. “If you lock Jack White in a room with an acoustic guitar, he’s gonna come up with something great. If you don’t have that gift, you have to grind away — that’s more what our band does.”
So, King and Prowse packed up and traveled to Nashville, renting a house to fine-tune the handful of tracks they had and cut a couple more to make Celebration Rock a full-length LP. In a way, they kind of did lock themselves in a room, they just also gave themselves enough time to grind away.
The duo emerged with the last two songs on the album, “The House that Heaven Built” and “Continuous Thunder.” The former, undeniably one of Japandroids finest and most-loved tracks, works almost as a spiritual sequel to “Younger Us.” Coming directly after it on the tracklist, “The House That Heaven Built” taps into the same restless energy, but instead of looking backward, it drives ever forward. “When they love you and they will/ Tell them all, they’ll love in my shadow/ And if they try to slow you down/ Tell them all, to go to hell.”
Meanwhile, “Continuous Thunder” is the platonic ideal of an album closer. Perhaps the most anthemic cut from a collection full of anthems, King opens the song with remarkably gentle vocals. The instrumental matches the softer energy, having the patience to slowly build upon itself until the grand finale that literally ends in fireworks.
With the songs put to tape, the hard part seemed to be over. They had eight songs they were proud to release, what more could matter? Reportedly, though, there wasn’t exactly champagne being sprayed throughout British Columbia. Polyvinyl wasn’t jazzed about the record’s title, and King wasn’t jazzed about the initial mixes. Oh, the minutiae of what it takes to actually put out an album.
Luckily, Polyvinyl came around on the celebratory title and King was able to tweak the mixes to his liking. What was left was a collection of tracks that found Japandroids refining their heartland-rock-meets-’80s-post-punk sound down to its perfect essentials: exhilarating performances, singalong choruses, and earnest lyrics that live up to the joyful explosions that bookend the tracklist.
See, Celebration Rock undoubtedly lives up to its grand title, but not exactly in a “We Are the Champions” way. Rather, Japandroids offer a sort of rebellious celebration of life, one that acknowledges struggle and hardships. It’s not the locker room after winning the big game, it’s the dive bar after yet another shit day at work — which, with a couple of buddies, a few pints, and the right attitude can be just as much of a celebration.
You can hear it in the cathartic choirs of “Yeah Yeah!,” “Whoa-oh-oh-oh!,” and “Alright!” on tracks like “Fire’s Highway” and “Adrenaline Nightshift,” two songs that don’t shy away from the dirty and the dark, but nonetheless feel explosively reassuring thanks to frantic drumming, passionately-strummed chords, and strategic moments of relative quietness.
For as arduous as Celebration Rock was to pull together, Japandroids sound remarkably in control. It’s 35 minutes of all-killer-no-filler, eight damn-near-perfect songs of encouragement. King has admitted the lyrics aren’t particularly personal — the struggles present on the album aren’t necessarily a reflection of his perforated ulcer or his mental state at the time or how laborious of a process songwriting is for him. He leaned more populous with his pen, thinking of what his new (and first-ever) fanbase would feel good about yelling in a concert hall.
Such origins don’t take away from the genuine nature of the writing, though. The words might not literally be linked to any deeply personal traumas, but they ring out no less true. Celebration Rock is the result of hard work, a product that, for all intents and purposes, was never expected to even exist. More than that, it’s a visceral listening experience that feels like sharing a cheap pitcher with your best friend. It’s “We needed this” or “Dude’s rock” distilled into song. Despite everything, we somehow have Celebration Rock, and that’s cause for a fucking celebration.
Japandroids’ Celebration Rock Is a Small Miracle
Jonah Krueger
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