Swan Lake

The formation of Swan Lake set indie hearts aflutter, bringing together a trio of unique voices and visions underneath one umbrella: Daniel Bejar (Destroyer/New Pornographers), Spencer Krug (Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown) and Carey Mercer (Frog Eyes). Their first album, 2006's Beast Moans, contained some knockout punches but also carried some excess weight. Enemy Mine improves on its predecessor and goes a step further in making Swan Lake feel like an independently operated band rather than a playful side project.

The songwriting still isn’t exactly collaborative; it’s hard to imagine such strong-headed frontmen sacrificing control over their individual songs. But Enemy Mine is also less fragmented than its predecessor, as Bejar, Krug and Mercer do a better job of informing and shading one another’s songs – keeping it from sounding like a Destroyer/Wolf Parade/Frog Eyes mix. To be frank, Mercer will always be the weakest link, but he’s raised his game considerably on Enemy Mine. His vocals are so affected that they make Bejar and Krug–both showboat vocalists–sound understated by comparison. But his “Peace” and “Spanish Gold, 2004” provide some necessary hard edges to an album that’s reliably weird and abstract, sure, but also often quite pretty (see Krug’s “Paper Lace” or Bejar’s “Heartswarm”). The smashing conclusion of Mercer’s “Warlock Psychologist” puts a bold exclamation point on the trio’s sophomore album – even if the first few minutes of the song feel rather formless.

Bejar’s three contributions will likely be comfortable and familiar to Destroyer fans; it’s very difficult to disguise his signature vocal style or his carefully considered songwriting. “Heartswarm” sounds like it could be on a Destroyer record, while “Battle of a Swan Lake, or, Daniel’s Song” bears more of an imprint from his bandmates, who pull the song apart at the seams (in a good way). “Spider” kicks into overdrive for its final minute, putting a surprisingly peppy climax on a sinister-sounding song.

Krug has proven that he can write a great peppy pop song himself, and “Settle On Your Skin” is a sugar rush that hits the system like the most unhinged moments of Wolf Parade. But his other two songs on Enemy Mine are the most delicate. At six minutes, the gentle piano ballad “A Hand at Dusk” is a little longer than necessary, and its weird spoken-word conclusion doesn’t work – but the rest of the song has an affecting grace, and the unusual harmonies with Bejar play well. The jaunty “Paper Lace” proves that even an off-kilter group such as Swan Lake can deliver some straightforward charm.

—Adam McKibbin
04.07.09

The second offering from Canadian indie rock stalwarts Dan Bejar (Destroyer, New Pornographers), Spencer Krug (Sunset Rubdown, Wolf Parade), and Carey Mercer (Blackout Beach, Frog Eyes) does its best to strip away the group's penchant for layering multiple songs atop each other, but a three car pile-up is still a pile-up, and listeners who have managed to remain immune to the trio's idiosyncratic brand of "thespian rock" will no doubt find much of Enemy Mine unlistenable. That said, fans of manic melodies, bohemian pageantry, and synapse melting lyricism have no greater modern champions than Bejar, Krug, and Mercer. Named for the 1985 Wolfgang Petersen-directed, race relations sci-fi film that found Dennis Quaid delivering enemy Louis Gossett, Jr.'s alien baby (out of Louis Gossett, Jr.) on the volcanic planet Fryine IV, Enemy Mine walks a lo-fi, Berlin-era Bowie tightrope spooled out over an abyss filled with unreleased material from each artist's aforementioned bands -- the trio's musical styles and flowery "high speak" are so similar, that it can be difficult to match the singer to the song. The first half of Enemy Mine feels less collaborative, but yields some true gems in "Paper Lace" and "Heartswarm" -- the latter could've have easily been pulled from Destroyer's This Night. Midway in however, the trio tosses the bottle into the fire and throw their arms around one another for a good old-fashioned art rock beat-down on "Peace," which sounds like the The Folded Palm, Apologies to the Queen Mary and Your Blues playing simultaneously on huge outdoor speakers, proving that when these gentlemen decide to get down to apocalyptic business, it's best to jump into the nearest foxhole and watch the fireworks from afar. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide