Pelican's latest proves that you don't need a crooner to rock, and that you don't have to ramble on for a quarter of an hour just because your band doesn't have a singer, either. This is an album full of gritty, muscular songs that makes the case for hard rock bands releasing instrumental versions of their albums.
A few years ago when indie hip hop was getting attention from indie rock labels, there was a somewhat disturbing trend where labels would release instrumental versions of albums that were recorded with vocals. Sometimes if I just didn't like a particular MC, I would pick up the instrumental disc so that I could at least appreciate the production, and that worked for me. But the whole thing seemed to reek of a way to sell hip hop records to folks who thought it was cool to listen to hip hop but who couldn't be bothered with all of those rappers. With Pelican's newest record, their first full length for Southern Lord, the notion of the instrumental album makes a little more sense to me.
Unlike most of the bands making heavy, instrumental rock records, Pelican aren't out to write epics. The songs on What We All Come To Need are never longer than about seven minutes and they are always designed with verses and choruses and bridges and hooks—the standard trappings of rock music. Pelican stands out in this respect, because these songs could very easily be written around a voice, but thankfully they are not. Every time I put this record on, I'm reminded of how it could so easily be spoiled by dumb lyrics or a voice that draws every ounce of attention to itself. I'm also reminded that I don't listen to a lot of heavy rock music precisely because so much of it is rendered useless by singers that don't do anything for me.
What We All Come To Need is full of driving rhythms and logical changes. It doesn't veer into noodly prog territory but it doesn't take a single chord and just make it louder for 12 minutes either. There's enough in each of these songs to pay attention to, enough moments for the players to shine and for the songwriting to take center stage. The songs don't wallow or whine—they are meaty and aggressive when they need to be, but the band isn't afraid to air things out either. In doing so, they create some magical moments where the tension of all of that grinding testosterone is released by wide open chords and beautiful beds of fuzzy guitar tones.
The album closes with a song that swims against the instrumental grain by including a voice. After demonstrating the virtues of instrumental rock, I was afraid that the band would blow it at the end with a singer but Pelican have wisely chosen a voice that kind of drones and melts into the music perfectly. I love this record because it fills a void. This is quality heavy music that isn't overly maudlin or fixated on embarrassing themes. It doesn't meander or take itself deadly seriously—it's just a great rock record by a band who clearly know what they are doing.
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