by Calvin Staropoli (@cal_staro)
Over the past few years, there has been an influx of English bands pushing the boundaries of classic genres like art rock and prog rock. One of the latest in this crop is London-based band Tapir!, who build on the quirky folk foundations of groups like Neutral Milk Hotel and Sparklehorse to create something fresh yet familiar. Their debut album, consisting of two previously released EPs and a new final act, is a strange but life-affirming indie folk saga, weaving an esoteric narrative about ancient beasts, shipwrecks, ghosts, and talking swallows through rich instrumentation and instantly memorable tunes.
Each “act” of the album starts with a brief narration, provided by Kyle Field of folk contemporaries Little Wings, that explains the basic story. It’s difficult to parse what exactly it’s all supposed to mean, but the narrative does express a clear desire to return to nature and escape from the grip of commercialism and consumer culture, and the serene instrumentation aids greatly in this theme. At the start of the story, a mysterious creature known only as The Pilgrim follows the call of a mysterious choir of voices calling his name. As he ascends a hill to get closer to the source of this call on the folktronica-influenced “On A Grassy Knoll (We Bow Together),” a drum machine and fingerpicked acoustic guitar provide an energetic pulse that pushes the story forward, and serene group vocals on the chorus provide that sense of togetherness The Pilgrim feels with this voice. As he sets forth into the sea on “Broken Ark,” sorrowful, piercing electric guitar and foreboding synth layers create a sense of dread as a storm approaches. On the chorus, as The Pilgrim sings “It’s you on the hill,” there’s a moment of solace as a playful acoustic guitar creeps in. By picturing this person on the hill, the protagonist is able to find light even in these dark circumstances.
This perseverance continues on “Gymnopédie,” perhaps the most instrumentally lush track here. After The Pilgrim barely survives a shipwreck, the theatrical arrangements and warm atmosphere help portray an optimistic feeling as The Pilgrim rejects death in a hilariously defiant way, “'Cause I've been told in heaven/The rooms are filled with mice/There's breadcrumbs in the bedsheets/And Jesus had head lice”. These absurdist lyrics combined with a wash of serene orchestration create an oddly beautiful contrast. Meanwhile, "My God” has the most blatant anti-consumerism message, with lead singer Ike Gray dropping gems like “Maybe it was Maybelline/That put you at a loss”. However, this cynicism in relation to modern culture gives way to a hopeful resolution on the stunning chorus, “But don't let it break you/There's no complications/It's your imagination that you found/Again”.
Everything culminates on the closer “Mountain Song,” where all the previous musical elements come together for a final cathartic, wordless crescendo that reaches up to the heavens. Group vocals, strings, horns, driving drums, synths, and subtle nature sounds culminate into an epic finale worthy of the long, strange journey we’ve just been through. The band's ambition and vision shines brightly through, creating a moment of pure distilled beauty that speaks volumes without any words.
The Pilgrim, Their God, and The King of My Decrepit Mountain is a fantastically listenable record whose somewhat cryptic narrative never distracts from the truly great songs and detailed arrangements, and instead only increases the intriguing nature of it all. It's both digestible and obtuse, and it’s in that contradiction where the album finds its magic.