When one thinks of great, epic bands, the image of packed stadiums and balconies overflowing with teaming throngs of fanatics comes to mind. We're reminded that people drive halfway across the country, or even charter flights between continents to see groups perform. People pull up to the venue in cars with the band's logo airbrushed on the hood and sometimes propose to each other in the parking lot while the opening bands fill the air with song. Sure, each one of these people is literally one in 10s of thousands, or even millions, who make a band a phenomenon, and in economic terms, each may be reducible to these figures. But the reality is that none of these people would go to all this trouble for a band if the group's music didn't speak to them personally. What makes a band truly epic is that they can touch everyone who hears them in a different way and still produce a passionate response. I'm not sure exactly what your reaction will be to hearing Nashville's Topiary Creatures, but if you're reading this blog, I have to assume that you'll likely receive them with at least mild enthusiasm. Their latest LP You Can Only Mourn Surprises sees the band continue to manage the the extraordinary feat of quiet-maximalism, layering their production intricately with an ambiance of care and a halo of tender angst that can be the curse of the thoughtful. This attention to the details of the album's production gives it an incredible sense of gravity; the longer you listen, the more inevitably you'll feel yourself pulled to its center. As always, Bryson Schmidt's vocals are hopeful in his ministration of emotion, catching you with a breathy whisper before slinging for the rafters with a boisterous belt that lifts you like a kite on the wind of his whimsey. Sparkling guitars and glistening electronics wash around your ears like champagne fizzing in a crystal flute. The patterned crunch of the percussion welling like a cup overflowing, driving the adrenaline in your heart, chemicals and emotions mixing in your blood until passion blinds the senses like condensation on car windows fogged by the communion of bodies in their interior. Topiary Creatures, with their ranging, big-little sound, feels like they are about to take off on some fantastic journey and would like nothing better than for you to join them in their quest. It is this personalized sense of invitation that I think lends them a particular kind of approachable majesty that is tough to quantify, but even more difficult to deny. I started this review talking about the effect that epic bands can have on people, and I think my experience of their record definitely qualifies them for whatever the next level of 5th-wave emo stardom that is, whether it be opening for Say Anything, or playing a headlining set at an iHop. Maybe you're not ready to get their logo tattooed on your bicep, or to work their lyrics into your wedding vows, but if their music has inspired you even a little, I hope you'll join me in striking up a candle and a chorus to light their way to bigger, better, and more bad-ass things.
