Saying Titus Andronicus singer Patrick Stickles bears a resemblance to Conor Oberst is akin to saying Owl City sounds faintly like the Postal Service. Stickles’ throaty quiver is the mirror image of Oberst’s, indistinguishable in both timbre and cadence. The only real difference between the two is temporal: While Oberst’s roar has tamed over the years, Stickles taps the singer’s youthful fury, which makes his recordings with Titus Andronicus sound like lost, early century outtakes from Bright Eyes (if not Oberst’s punkier, 2001 side project Desaparecidos).
That’s not to accuse Titus Andronicus of complete plagiarism, though. The group has ambitions of their ownmostly of the Hold Steady, E Street revivalism varietyand it’s hard to blame them for capitalizing on the demand for loud, emotional music that Oberst years ago stopped filling.
A whimsically overstuffed concept album juxtaposing Civil War-ravaged colonies or modern New Jersey, with ample references to Shakespeare and Lincoln, the group’s sophomore album The Monitor plays like it was written with live performances in mind, prioritizing fist-pumping rally cries designed to make fans rush the stage to sing along. There are quieter surprises hidden throughout the album, tooplenty of small, Elephant 6-styled tangents, as well as a clever, Pogues-styled ballad with Wye Oak’s Jenn Wasnerbut they exist largely for contrast, mainly to make the rowdy moments that much rowdier.
The Monitor is, in equal measure, rousing and numbing. By the 14-minute closer “The Battle of Hampton Roads,” the fifth soused epic on the album to break the seven-minute mark, sheer repetition has eroded much of the record’s early charm. Yet even that song ends reluctantly, with squalls of noise fighting to delay the inevitable fadeout. Listeners may have checked out well before that point, but the band sounds like they still have another 30 or 40 minutes in them.
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