A Return To Simplicity Fuels Death Cab For Cutie’s Introspective ‘I Built You a Tower’ (ALBUM REVIEW)

After three years of touring to celebrate the 20th anniversary of hit albums Transatlanticism and Plans, Death Cab for Cutie put the nostalgia aside and hit the studio to make something new. Back on an indie label, ANTI- Records, after twenty years with Atlantic, the Washington quintet stripped away the thick textures of recent releases to create a more raw, streamlined sound. 

I Built You a Tower was recorded over three weeks, mostly with live band sessions. The band’s eleventh studio album features Benjamin Gibbard on guitar and vocals, bassist Nicholas Harmer, drummer Jason McGerr, and multi-instrumentalists Dave Depper and Zac Rae, the consistent lineup since 2015. Gibbard’s poetic lyrics, as usual, are a focal point. In this case, Gibbard uses his introspective songs to explore his recent divorce and examine the ways he’s changed over time as he copes with that new reality. 

There are a few louder moments that harken back to Death Cab’s earlier, more aggressive sound, such as the crunching, distorted guitars of “Punching the Flowers.” But most of the tracks fit comfortably in Gibbard’s niche of soft, melodic indie rock. 

In “Pep Talk,” Gibbard describes struggling with depression and trying to talk himself into moving on. “Now I find I’m waking up at sunrise and just lying in bed, giving myself a pep talk to survive the day ahead,” he sings over arpeggiated chords and McGerr’s catchy drumbeat. Those pep talks, however, aren’t working. “But they make no difference when all of the colors blend into black,” he admits.

The band is at its darkest on the ominous “How Heavenly a State.” Squealing feedback, Harmer’s sinister bass thump, and discordant distorted guitars paint a fragile picture with lyrics depicting violence and desperation. “There was no closure in your exit. It was a perfume for the scentless,” Gibbard sings over the caustic noise. Then the commotion fades, and Gibbard is left crooning to a rhythm pulsing like a heartbeat. “When there’s no making sense of the past or present tense, I will breathe for you.”

As always, there’s something incongruous with Gibbard’s voice. He sings confessional lyrics about open wounds with a disaffected, monotone delivery. The emotions are laid bare in the stories, but hidden in the storytelling. Though some songs, like the dull, repetitive “Full of Stars,” don’t work, strong melodies and lyrics carry most of I Built You a Tower.

The catchy “Riptides” finds Gibbard getting honest with himself, admitting that the pep talks and positivity aren’t working. “I’m too tired to talk. I’m too tired to end the war. And I can’t seem to hold it together anymore,” he sings. A propulsive mid-tempo rhythm and muted, staccato guitars give the song a sense of urgency, as if it’s a make-or-break moment for Gibbard.

The two title tracks are two of the album’s best songs. “I Built You a Tower (a)” is a mid-tempo ballad about compartmentalizing pain. Amid a brooding melody, Gibbard sings, “I thought that I could keep you locked away, that in this soundless spire was where you’d always stay.” Even with her locked in the tower, though, he couldn’t help thinking of her. “But into this void, into this empty space, all my sleeping fears, they began to race,” he sings.

“I Built You a Tower (b)” closes the album with a heavier, angrier take on the same subject. Gibbard sings many of the same lyrics as in the former song, with subtle variations, but this time, the story is backed by heavy rock drums and a driving, distorted guitar riff. But as the sadness of the former song transitions to the anger of the latter, there’s a new acceptance. “I’m learning how to live without you,” he sings. 

The simpler, stripped-down sound of I Built You a Tower mostly works. The simpler compositions draw attention to Gibbard’s storytelling, while the melodies and occasional rock outbursts add the hooks.