Vulgar Boatmen - Please Panic

Pop magic is rarely bottled by a band more than once. Most have a moment of perfection and it's done. Vulgar Boatmen did it with their second offering. Though many reserve their praises for their debut, this is the one for me. Pure roots pop, snapping and crackling, sour and angst-ridden, clever and simple, Please Panic stands out.

Chugging melodies and gorgeous modal harmonies prevail, but the thing that stands out even after two decades is the lack of urgency. Contradicting its title, this album never panics. It trusts you to come around - to discover its charm. It might take time and it stubbornly acknowledges that fact halfway through the record with the best song of the nineties, You Don't Love Me, Yet. But oh, you will - you will.

It is simply sublime.

From Rolling Stone upon its release:

Please Panic is a translucent collection of eloquent beauty and delicate vigor. Spartan arrangements give it a subtle allure. A few chords, near-subliminal bass and an austere backbeat – plus occasional viola or organ accents – paint the unprepossessing melodies in muted hues with strong, straight lines. Behind the clear, artless vocals, each carefully chosen note is essential. Please Panic works its considerable power with studied simplicity; songs tick like clockwork but pulse with strength.

The album could not be more focused or consistent; in tone and content it seems guided by a single artistic vision. While a few songs rhythmically suggest the chugging languor of the Grateful Dead, the Boatmen's gently intense guitar pop most often sounds like a country cousin to the Feelies.

The emotional depths suggested in elusive lyrics about unresolved relationships – "We Can Figure This Out," "Fool Me," "You Don't Love Me Yet," "I'm Not Stuck on You," "Alison Says" – are illuminated by flickers of melancholy and quiet obsession; numbers expressing a more positive view ("You're the One," "There's a Family") don't erase the uncertainty from the music. In these adult songs, life's complexities are evoked only by allusion. Please Panic is a rich, rewarding album that involves the listener by leaving so much unsaid.

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