With their meticulously crafted and infinitely layered 2017 album
A Deeper Understanding
,
the War on Drugs
added new levels of atmosphere and detail to their '80s blue collar rock-inspired sound. Centered around the songwriting and vision of bandleader
Adam Granduciel
had looked to roots rock heroes like
Dylan
Springsteen
Petty
, and the like from the time they started, but
married the band's ever-present echoes of Reagan-era FM radio hits with an almost overwhelmingly dense approach to arrangement, with
Granduciel
stacking the songs with tightly organized sounds that gave the entire album a sense of magnitude and precision. Fifth album
I Don't Live Here Anymore
takes a different path, sounding looser and less-toiled over without losing any of the detail that keeps
's songs from being mere re-creations of '80s best-sellers from the rock section of the Columbia House records club. The album opens with one of its best songs, and also one of its gentlest, "Living Proof." Distant acoustic guitar strums, soft piano chords, and
's plainly delivered
-esque vocals slowly open up into an arrangement that adds organ, steady bass, and atmospheric percussion. The song never builds but instead offers a restrained overture for an album that blasts off from that point forward. Rockers like "Harmonia's Dream," "Change," and "Wasted" bounce along excitedly, pairing bright synth lines with upbeat tempos, almost Krautrock-like rhythm section pulses, and occasional dashes of piano reminiscent of
Don Henley
, adding touches of cinematic melancholy to balance out the songs' uplifting melodic qualities. The title track is anthemic in the same way, upping the ante on all of the band's usual reference points by leaning into huge drum fills saturated with gated reverb (the classic '80s sound) and several blatant lyrical references to
Bob Dylan
. The choruses soar with guest backup vocals from
Lucius
, perfecting the song's lonely, searching vibe while it replicates the same wistful feel of a
video set at a county fair in 1986. Only occasionally does the album retreat into the moodiness that was prevalent throughout
, but there are some thoughtful, slower songs like "Old Skin," and the plodding, mysterious "I Don't Wanna Wait" begins with
Talk Talk
-style atmospheres and an ominous drum machine borrowed directly from
Phil Collins
' ubiquitous "In the Air Tonight."
is a warmer, friendlier reading of the sound that could feel impenetrable on
' last album. On top of the more accessible production, this record also boasts some of
's most immediate songs, making it some of the best work from a band with a near-spotless track record. ~ Fred Thomas