Carrier's record cover depicts a simply drawn tornado spiralling across a blank landscape, moving either toward or away from a man who stands frozen, staring down the storm. You can see the image above. The superflous description serves only to make this point: Carrier simultanteously contains the whirlwind of shifting sounds its cover implies while providing an overall aura of cool, passive detachment. While The Dodos peform their melodic meanderings with wild percussive flourishes and aggressive riffs, the venturous compositions still remain in a state of unyielding assurance and quiet strength.
The paradox of this is striking: a relaxed, largely lulling musical whole has arisen from scattered, semi-chaotic parts. Meric Long's vocals, a notch away from a laid-back James Mercer, well serve the rattling indie folk-rock The Dodos have cultivated, providing focus and clarity amidst the rush of instrumentation.
The record makes "Death" sound beautiful and a vicious "Destroyer" welcome as "hope exits." The Dodos preach "Confidence" even as the world the crumbles, dueling despair with spiritualized stoicism. "It's only the ocean..." Long repeats with a hauntingly persuasive lilt on the album's final track, "There's no need to run at all." And indeed Carrier is unhurried and unafraid, hypnotized by the call of the ocean or the spin of the cyclone on the horizon.
Although it may not pull all listeners into such a transfixed state, Carrier is a vehicle that delivers real sonic wealth. Its storm, opaque and abstract, edges into the ears with creeping ease. Unobtrusively and subtly unnerving, the album keeps itself at a distance from looming terror, finding peace where fear should rightfully reside.
Grade: B+
.jpeg)
