LNZNDRF's debut is low on vowels, big on tunes

He is a drummer who needs only to play a straight, 4/4 beat to be immediately recognised, even by those who are relatively unfamiliar with his work. On LNZNDRF, he, his brother Scott (also of The National), and Beirut’s Ben Lanz construct eight tracks around his insistent grooves. It is a record of ebbs and flows, on which texture and nuance are prioritised over directness or tight structure. Of course, one could say the same about much of The National’s output – the Devendorfs’ alma mater are admired far more for their erudition and subtlety than for bombastic, three-minute pop songs. The approach feels different here, though. The National make records about people, about self-examination; LNZNDRF is a record about sound.

Happily, the creation and manipulation of sound are skills with which this trio are very accomplished. Album closer, “Samarra”, weaves foreboding pads and coruscating leads around Devendorf’s muscular, galloping drum part to stunning effect; “Hypno-Skate” is a gorgeous, widescreen piece, the key appeal of which lies in its tiniest details – the setting of the guitar line’s tremolo effect, for instance, or the delicacy with which the synths are introduced, gradually, halfway through the track. At these details, LNZNDRF excel; there’s an Eno-esque consideration for placement and process that underpins the moments in which the album works best. The brief “Stars and Time” arrives at exactly the right point in the album, fleetingly heavy and abrasive, providing a much-needed break from slow builds and sinuous groove.

There are weaknesses on this LP, however, and, to put it bluntly, they are all attributable to the vocals. According to the press release, much of the material here was at least partially improvised, then edited in postproduction. For most of the instrumental arrangements, this works well, suggesting that the reason so many of the musical intricacies feel so expertly placed in the mix is that they were done so instinctively, by skilful, considerate players. Yet, perhaps for the same reason, the vocals frequently just sound half-baked. “Beneath The Black Sea”, an otherwise driving, optimistic piece, is somewhat undermined by the distracted, non-committal Bernard Sumner impersonation through which the similarly absent lyrics are delivered (and although it’s unfair to compare LNZNDRF to The National, this song is also tainted somewhat by its distinct resemblance to “Humiliation”, from the latter band’s 2013 record, Trouble Will Find Me). “Mt Storm” fares a little better – it’s markedly more impassioned, and hookier - but still the vocal melody feels a little as if it has been simply draped atop the satisfyingly powerful instrumentation, rather than composed to complement and interact with it. And, one last thing – who on earth thought that the Owl City-style autotune on “Monument” was a good idea?

For the most part, though, the vocals’ anonymous nature – they’re never offensive, just a little phoned-in - at least allows the listener to focus on the sterling instrumental work. This is not a record for quick thrills, or for sombre introspection; it is an album that creates a rich, layered sonic space, in which it invites its audience to lose themselves awhile. On those terms, it unquestionably works. It may leave some listeners, and particularly fans of National frontman Matt Berninger’s lyrical eloquence, pining for a little more vocal engagement or direct subject matter, but nevertheless, LNZNDRF have produced a far more accomplished, cohesive work than almost any other such collaborative side-project one might care to mention.