War On Drugs - Journeys and Dreams of the New Americana

Legend has it that Adam Granduciel and Kurt Vile met at a party in 2003, and after several drinks discovered they had musical tastes in common, starting with the Bob Dylan of “Highway 61 Revisited”. The setting is Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and shortly after, the two began working together on songs that merged the poetic vision of the bard from Duluth with guitar attacks borrowed from the best of American alt-rock.

Granduciel initially joined Vile's band, the Violators, but in 2005 the two launched the War On Drugs project, a name borrowed from Republican prohibitionist campaigns, settling on a lineup that, besides the two of them (handling vocals and guitars), included Dave Hartley on bass, Kyle Lloyd on drums, and Charlie Hall on drums and organ, the latter having previously played with Windsor For The Derby.

Their early steps were spent torn between playing just for fun or quitting their respective jobs to devote themselves full time to their musical passion. Meanwhile, the guys became a fixture on the local scene, with the occasional trip to New York handy for spreading their name around.

In 2007 they released Barrel Of Batteries, a self-produced EP with five demos, among which "Arms Like Boulders" stands out (already programmatic of their sound, an alt-folk that grinds together Dylan, the Waterboys and almost shoegaze-sized guitars), "Buenos Aires Beach" (both later reworked the following year on their official debut album) and "Pushing Corn", almost an outtake from "Forever Changes". Rounding out the set are the brief experimental interludes "Set Yr. Sights", "Toxic City # 26" and "Sweet Thing Reprise". Recorded on an eight-track digital recorder and released as a free download, Barrel Of Batteries soon earned positive reviews, while their reputation as a solid live band helped pique the interest of Secretly Canadian, the label that signed the quintet and released their first album.

In June 2008 Wagonwheel Blues came out, immediately earning glowing reviews from specialist press around the world. It's an album built, from the title onward, around the theme of travel, its sounds and the pacing of some songs even evoking the carriages of a train moving coast-to-coast somewhere between the years of the Great Depression and the ferment of the Summer of Love. A fine image, in stark contrast with today's frantic world, where distances tend to collapse. Inside Wagonwheel Blues you can practically smell the asphalt and sun-scorched roads, thanks to nine tracks that constantly balance present and past, all pleasant and captivating, narrating the adventures of ordinary people. Musically speaking, the album fuses the singer-songwriter tradition of the Dylan/Springsteen/Petty school with the avant-alt-country experimentalism of Wilco's Jim O'Rourke era (the one that gave us "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" and "A Ghost Is Born", to be clear), with Sonic Youth's dissonant guitars acting as counterpoint, openly echoed for instance in the instrumental coda of "There Is No Urgency". The opening "Arms Like Boulders", featured in a different version on the previous year's EP, is a folk-rock gallop that alone blends a multitude of influences, yet the band doesn't get bogged down in a downpour of references: they manage to shake off the image of mere "re-proposers" by updating sounds from the past, filtering everything through their own personal perspective (as happens in the clattering "Taking The Farm"), without shying away from electronics.

The locomotive keeps rolling, shaking up a mix in which transatlantic folk forms the root, the starting point, while the goal, reached along a straight line, is a kind of alt-folk stil novo, updated in musical style yet tied to the past by the same romantic themes. That's how an instrumental like "Coast Reprise" finds its reason for being in the clatter of a pick on acoustic strings, almost recalling the steady, rhythmic sound of a train. The record's wardrobe is also enriched with tartly country-flavored touches on the sprawling "Show Me The Coast", and with vaguely vaudeville shades on "Buenos Aires Beach", where pioneering epic meets Arcade Fire, who also resurface on the Springsteen-esque "A Needle In Your Eye #16", enriched by an organ in fine form. In this lively trip there are no level crossings, no pauses, as if to favor a quick meeting of stylistic natures that would otherwise seem at odds. Wagonwheel Blues thus comes across as a record with a classic flavor, onto which modern sounds and noises are grafted. Still, while it amounts to an interesting synthesis, the album can feel chaotic at times, as if the band hadn't yet found the best balance to smoothly convey all the ideas and sonic solutions they had in mind. But the perfect formula would arrive very soon.

A few months later, following the European promotional tour in support of Wagonwheel Blues, Kurt Vile decided to leave the group to pursue his own solo project, which would quickly turn him into a first-rate star of the new American singer-songwriter scene, thanks above all to the successful "Smoke Ring For My Halo" (2011) and the subsequent "Walkin On A Pretty Daze" (2013), reaching an even higher level of visibility thanks to the work made in tandem with Courtney Barnett, "Lotta Sea Lice" (2017).

But Vile wouldn't be the only one to bow out: Hall and Lloyd also left the fold, with Granduciel (who thus became sole leader, both vocally and creatively) and Hartley (who took over guitar duties) recruiting drummer Mike Zanghi to record the 2010 EP Future Weather, a kind of bridge to the next album, which shows the work-in-progress of songs that would later be either perfected or shelved.

Shortly after, Steven Urgo replaced Mike Zanghi on drums, and multi-instrumentalist Robbie Bennett joined the group. With this lineup, War On Drugs set about finishing the work that would lead to their fateful second album.

In 2011, the workshop yielded the acclaimed Slave Ambient, on which the War On Drugs sound comes across as refined and polished compared to the previous chapter, consolidating their roots/americana foundation into a melting pot of psychedelia, Paisley sound, shoegaze and alt-rock with clear Velvet Underground lineage. What's most striking is the propulsive, evocative force of the wall of sound generated by the interplay between the dense jingle-jangle of the guitars (good old Vile makes an informal return on a few tracks) and the dreamy, atmospheric haze emanating from synths and keyboards. But the American band's qualities aren't limited to sonic choices or production skill: the sour, kneaded, crumpled yet sharply defined and incisive melodies are the winning card of this second record. The influence of the Dylan-esque country-rock "gospel" is still distinctly felt (especially in Granduciel's singing, in that nasal way of dragging out the last syllables at the end of each line) on tracks such as "Brothers", on the semi-acoustic, insomnia-hoarse opener "Best Night" over shimmering guitar tapestries, on the closing "Black Water Falls" or on the bluesy (piano and guitar, almost The Band) "I Was There".

It's in the more rhythmic, jagged tracks, though, that the band grows in intensity and finds the right change of pace: the blend of shoegaze and new wave on the gorgeous "Your Love Is Calling My Name", long and stretched out to the brink of a jam; the driving "Original Slave"; the martial, ascending "Come To The City", which at times recalls mid-80s U2; the synthetic haze dissipated by a Springsteen-esque harmonica lurking in the background of "Baby Missiles". Slave Ambient is folk-rock soured by psychedelic touches, the expression of a peculiar, urban, modernist and twilight-tinged version of that typical American sound passed down from hand to hand through so many songwriters over time. The same old American highway, but lit by streetlamps at dusk. Slave Ambient is a delicate, nostalgic record, yet at the same time current in its dreamlike, unsettling grain, in being a panoramic bridge drawn between sixties singer-songwriting (revisited in the soft glow of the 80s) and alternative-leaning neo-psychedelia. A fine display of coherence and maturity for a band used to shedding its skin (and its members) and absorbing new stimuli, one that seems to have finally found its ideal dimension.

Three years later, in March 2014, Lost In The Dream came out, further consolidating and expanding War On Drugs' reputation worldwide. The challenge of evoking "the dream", of losing oneself in the vast open spaces of the American heartland, can be considered fully won. The album stands as a modern instant classic, a true act of love toward great American music. Just listening to "Red Eyes", the single that preceded the album, reveals the band's evolution, with a rhythm section sharper than usual, a more assured Granduciel on vocals, and those spacey synths that make it one of their most epic songs to date. Though a guitarist, Granduciel often composes on piano, and the results are evident in sublime ballads such as "Suffering" (very Fleetwood Mac, and the comparison is meant as a compliment), which broaden the band's stylistic range. But center stage is almost always taken by their trademark motorik arrangements, by now their unmistakable signature, over which Dylan-esque vocals and carpets of guitars are laid. The finest examples of this approach are the epic gallops "Under The Pressure" and "An Ocean Between The Waves". But Lost In The Dream also has room for the usual Springsteen-esque echoes ("Burning") and ambient instrumentals ("The Haunting Idle").

The overall sound is broad, liquid, full of echoes and space effects decidedly unusual for a roots-rock-based record. Blankets of space-ambient keyboards and near-new-romantic synths wrap around intricately crafted piano-and-guitar embroidery in an often muffled, almost timeless atmosphere. One of the key tracks is "Disappearing", a pure distillation of romanticism in which the sounds seem to slowly drift, immersed in a liquid consistency reminiscent of Popol Vuh, but filtered through a distinctly eighties sensibility, its long instrumental coda harboring a piano that stirs up a myriad of buried feelings, an almost-Balearic kick drum, the riff of a nostalgic piano. War On Drugs' sonic palette is richer than ever, a blend of folk, americana, space-pop, ambient, soft-rock. Even in more classic tracks, like "Eyes To The Wind" (notice how perfectly the song's atmosphere matches the image suggested by its title), you can catch that throbbing urgency that sets the Philadelphia band apart.

Thanks to Lost In The Dream, one of the best records released in 2014, War On Drugs came to be unanimously regarded as one of the most interesting and innovative bands of the new American crop.

After a long, exhilarating tour, Adam Granduciel got back on track in 2017 with a new record, for the first time carrying the weight of a level of collective anticipation well beyond anything he was used to. A Deeper Understanding was born with the intent of continuing the mission of bringing back to light rock elements from the past that, until a few years earlier, had seemed outdated, tuning in with the trend of reviving distinctly eighties sounds and sensibilities. It's a record that doesn't bring upheaval, and that holds tight to Granduciel and co.'s recent brilliant past, which had secured the trust of both audience and critics, earning praise across the board. No mutation here, but Adam "rambles" less: he abandons the psychedelic flows and settles into a more classic rock formula, less inclined toward spacey drift, while still keeping long instrumental codas. Moments of absolute engagement thus take flight: "Strangest Thing" — for instance — is worth the price of admission on its own, six and a half minutes of deep ecstasy, a beat of wings carrying with it both disorientation and disenchantment.

The same goes for the other gem, “Thinking Of A Place”, enriched by vibrant solos and sweet pauses: a nocturnal elegy with harmonica and piano gently lighting up the atmosphere. There's no shortage of moments where Adam seems to cruise on autopilot down the dusty roads of the American heartland, as in the more immediate “Holding On” and the far too diluted “In Chains”. But these are isolated episodes, ultimately enjoyable if you set aside a certain critical nitpicking. Everything also works beautifully on the shortest track: “Knocked Down”, a bluesy-flavored ballad with sudden bursts of guitar and piano providing delicate support. A Deeper Understanding is an album that preserves and consolidates all the hallmarks of the War On Drugs sound, confirming their clear fidelity to certain classic stylistic traits of American rock from the Eighties. An alchemy whose recipe calls for no unusual ingredients, but rather a careful blend of timeless elements, sustained by tremendous melodic inspiration.

As Covid-19 brings live activity to a halt everywhere, War On Drugs put together their first live album, Live Drugs, released in November 2020, almost as if to package up for their fans the atmosphere of big arenas, which at the time were barred by decree from hosting any kind of event. In a live setting, the Philadelphia band elevates its compositions even further, embellishing them with sweeping, expansive stretches and memorable guitar solos (or saxophone, as happens for instance on “Eyes To The Wind”) with an unmistakably classic flavor. The material included was recorded over the span of six years: not a single complete concert, then, but a collage of "on the road" performances spanning almost the entire discography of Adam Granduciel's band: from “Buenos Aires Beach”, pulled from the debut “Wagonwheel Blues“, to the more recent tracks from the Grammy winning “A Deeper Understanding”, passing through no fewer than five tracks from “Lost In The Dream”, plus a cover of Warren Zevon, “Accidentally Like A Martyr”.

Some of their most thunderous electric rides, “An Ocean Between The Waves”, “Pain”, “Red Eyes” and “Under The Pressure”, sit alongside the serene sweetness of “Strangest Thing” and “Thinking Of A Place”, making for a wonderfully balanced album, in which roots-rock (or, as some would say, heartland rock) intertwines with alt-folk, bringing it into the new millennium while never shying away from showing a very strong Dylan imprint. A record that will delight fans and surprise those who don't yet know War On Drugs well. For the latter, Live Drugs could be the best possible starting point for an unexpected love at first listen.

But let's take a step back. Just a month after winning the Grammy Award for "Best Rock Album" for "A Deeper Understanding", War On Drugs quickly put together plenty of new material. It seemed like the start of a new modus operandi in the band's songwriting process, always busy over-enriching their already complicated sonic puzzle. But the following three years went by amid second-guessing, tweaks and endless sessions spread across no fewer than seven recording studios. An odyssey that stripped those songs of nearly all their pathos and energy of the "first-take" kind, so much so that many of the tracks included on I Don't Live Here Anymore, released on October 29, 2021, come across as weakened. The firm intention to reproduce part of the American songbook of the last sixty years is starting to show its limits: War On Drugs records always sound terrific, but the problem is that if you want to pay tribute to the troubadours of the road, of escape, of the journey, it would be more exciting to aim for a dustier, more "dusty" sound. Instead Granduciel keeps clinging to those plasticky, reverb-drenched tones so redolent of the Eighties, which over time risk becoming somewhat grating. Not only that: over time, Adam has chosen to cut back on overly noisy guitars, the very guitars that knew how to create interesting layers bordering on shoegaze, and has all but eliminated the electric rides.

As a result, I Don't Live Here Anymore takes on the shape of another work of "road music", perfect for driving to, dreaming of speeding coast-to-coast down American highways. Open spaces and melancholy, with Granduciel's songwriting dwelling on its usual themes of regret, loss, pain, and missed opportunities. A kind of self-annihilation that keeps churning out songs that are for the most part predictable and indistinguishable, not to mention thoroughly familiar. If there's one track that genuinely tries to head in a different direction, it's fittingly the opener, “Living Proof”, the best of the bunch, even though it still falls into derivative territory: in this case the trick is borrowing the Sunday best of Wilco. As it happens, “Living Proof” was recorded during one of the most productive sessions, in May 2019, with the full band present. It came out so well right away that Granduciel, for once, skipped the usual overdubs, leaving the final version more or less identical to the first take laid down on tape. Too bad War On Drugs almost never choose the path of simplicity.

Having crossed the fifteen-year mark, across five albums Adam Granduciel and his band have succeeded in crafting a thoroughly personal, coherent and recognizable aesthetic. They deserve full credit for building a spacious sound capable of giving them a sharp, distinct identity, one that manages to please both lovers of classic rock and fans of indie festivals.

Contributions by Luigi Gaudio (“Wagonwheel Blues”), Simone Coacci (“Slave Ambient”), Gioele Sforza (“Lost In The Dream”), Giuliano Delli Paoli (“A Deeper Understanding”)

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