Death Cab for Cutie – Codes and Keys [Sounds Compelling]

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Death Cab for Cutie is aging. And for a band that rode the coattails of a movement so mired in the melodrama of youth, this is a perilous undertaking.

Here are the facts. Many Death Cab fans remember Transatlanticism as a life-changing album, potentially the band’s finest moment (though we are usually accused of being bandwagoners, since that’s when they got “big.”) That was their last Seattle-based Barsuk album. These last three albums have been produced by major label Atlantic and up until now, there hasn’t been quite an outpouring of love. Plans certainly did well for the band’s mainstream reputation, but 2008’s Narrow Stairs almost relegated them back to pre-MTV standards without the truly-indie cred.

So if this year’s Codes and Keys fails to ignite the same emotions that created a legion of heartbroken fans ten years ago, is it a result of studio meddling or is something fundamental changing for the band?

In retrospect, Plans and Narrow Stairs were actually solid entries in the band’s discography. They never captured the earnest musings of earlier albums that hypnotized teenagers and college students, but to try to do so would have been disingenuous. The mid-2000s were a turning point for Death Cab for Cutie, as they dealt with mainstream attention and new subject material – mainly dealing with their own mortality and forgiveness of main lyricist Ben Gibbard’s young mistakes.

In its musicality, Codes and Keys seems to continue the upswing of mood, delving less in minor chords, distortions and uniquely haunting sounds than any of its predecessors. Whereas 2008’s Narrow Stairs tempted to bring Death Cab back to their rock-club roots, Codes mostly eschews strong guitar riffs in favor of a more even instrumental ensemble that features the piano prominently. Codes makes for good background music, mainly because it won’t distract from tasks like work or driving with strong memories associated with the songs.

“Doors Unlocked and Opened” and “Underneath the Sycamore” are the strongest track offerings in terms of sound. Whereas the first has forgettable poetry as lyrics, the latter is the best track in the vein of earlier Death Cab songs.

Gibbard’s lyrics provide the clues to what makes Codes less interesting than its predecessors. There is little to no conflict in the songs’ narratives. This doesn’t seem like an album Death Cab felt particularly compelled to make at this point. This sounds like contract-filler to me.

Opening track “Home is a Fire” and title track “Codes and Keys” both end up falling flat both from underwhelming musicality and stunted lyrics. It seems that the band just finds a convening stopping point and moves on, foregoing the complex bridges and extended instrumentals that make most of their other songs stick. Even songs dealing with simply-stated atheism like “Unobstructed Views” and “St. Peter’s Cathedral” amount to pretty instrumentals with little to actually say on the subject.

Come on, guys. You’re rich and getting laid. Maybe you should try a jump-in-the-air-grinning pose?

Gibbard basically admitted to Spin magazine that the band didn’t want to devote the same energy to this album. They decided to record in eight studios for less than two weeks at a time to keep their family lives intact. “Living off in the woods for a month away from family isn’t something we want to do,” he told them. As a fan, I’m happy for the band’s personal happiness, but we need to admit that complacency doesn’t result in great music. Writing songs on-the-go just doesn’t seem to have the same effect that holing up in the woods did for Death Cab.

In fact, the only track that rings true to me is “Stay Young, Go Dancing,” which is a happy track, albeit with a dark fantasy tinge. It seems that Gibbard and company are just being direct about their attitude here. Had the whole album been this upbeat and jubilant, it might have been more interesting.

Long story short, Ben Gibbard is now a man who’s been married for two years to one of the most beautiful singer-actresses in Hollywood. The loneliness, cynicism, and regret that he conveyed with his honest and inviting voice is gone. Without it, Death Cab makes for very pretty filler – a non-offensive band whose songs would fit well with corporate commercials aimed at the indie-hipster crowd or as a coffee shop soundtrack.

But they aren’t good stories. And even though Death Cab for Cutie is maturing, I feel that they missed an opportunity to really make aging — and feeling good about it — into a comparatively intriguing emotional adventure.

Buy this album if you’re a Death Cab fan, because there’s nothing else quite like Ben Gibbard’s voice. But save it for standard library rotation. If you’ve been through We Have the Facts, Something About Airplanes, and Transatlanticism, you won’t find equivalent memories here.

6 out of 10

Buy it: iTunes | Amazon