Root for Ruin

There are a couple of poor tracks that could well serve as a root for ruin for the album, but LSF have too much quality to let a couple of duds spoil the fun.

For those who know LSF, expect no changes here – the one guitar chops, and the other guitar squalls; no keyboards have been added; no epics or spoken word tracks are attempted. The important things is: LSF are still a gang. LSF are still six parts Bossa Nova to four parts Bleach, with ‘Lips’n’Stuff’ especially Pixies, and two tracks (‘Poltergeist’ and ‘Clear Spirits’) devolving into a glossolalic babble reminiscent of ‘The Happening’.

In their more than dozen years of existence, Les Savy Fav have gained a reputation as an exhilaratingly wild live act. While the band is known for working up a sweat-drenched crowd chaos, though, their career trajectory has been one of a band focused on truly honing their hard-charging craft. LSF's last full-length, 2007's Let's Stay Friends, represented the full realization of their sound, with exacting, catchy-as-hell songs that possessed the neck-snapping kinetic energy that was found in rougher form on previous records. A polished "crossover" effort, yeah, but also fun and rollicking in all the right places.

Even as they creep closer to the mainstream (or as the mainstream creeps closer to them), Les Savy Fav make it clear that they haven't jettisoned bluster in search of mass appeal. As brash as ever, Root For Ruin finds the NYC band in a particularly lascivious mood. Les Savy Fav exercise their libidos, which is a good thing, frankly, slipping sex into the too often neutered indie rock conversation. Within Root For Ruin's first few minutes, world-class weirdo/Beardo Tim Harrington leers, "Show us your teeth and show us your tits/ Show us your scars from the shit that you did"; the song is titled "Appetites," and it's clear that Harrington's not just talking about his gut. Two songs later and tits are again mentioned; despite the frequent gratuitousness, the crass language doesn't feel forced or unnatural. Harrington's lyrics come across as assured and keenly observational, rather than obnoxiously crude. Or perhaps they are obnoxious, but deliberately so.