The promo material for Chris Walla's solo debut contains an interview, wherein Walla talks about the amount of C-SPAN he watches between sessions. Supposedly, Field Manual is a record of political analysis. I didn't pick up on this the first listen through. Walla coos and sighs so politely over his songs that without lyrics it's hard to imagine he's singing about anything but relationships or quarter-life crises, the usual fixations of contemporary nice-guy rock.
Armed with my new bit of knowledge, I Googled the lyrics and gave the album another spin. This time, I noticed not only the lovely way "Two-Fifty" builds from its initial nu-soul affectation into genteel, mannered post-punk, but also Walla making vague statements about being fractured factory lines, collectively needing a plan and wanting to go forward. I don't know if he meant to invoke MoveOn.org, but it wouldn't have been completely out-of-place; this is music that could easily be played over the loudspeaker before a Democratic candidate ascended the podium to make a speech.
Genteel and mannered describe the rest of Field Manual too, despite "The Score"'s obvious effort to party hard and the not-so-subtle Clash rip that kicks off "Sing Again." It seems clear Walla is most comfortable when he's cooing and sighing politely as he does on "A Bird Is A Song," the lovely "Holes," and "Everybody Needs a Home," which continues with the thread of post-punk homage, sticking closely to The Smiths' quirks.
Like Smiths albums, Field Manual rewards attention. This is in part because Walla's production is superb and loaded with extra details, like the reverse-echoed synth in "Two-Fifty" and the pretty cloud of arpeggios that coalesces toward the end of "It's Unsustainable." It's also partly because the emotional tone of the record is so close to a flatline it's easy to get lost on Wikipedia and forget there's music playing. This is ultimately the biggest problem with Field Manual, and it's hard to diagnose the exact reason why -- it may be Walla's unassuming vocals (which change little from one song to the next) or the polite song lengths, or it may be something as simple as the order in which the tracks are arranged, which frontloads the record with its most diverse material and leaves it to conclude on a note of sustained self-similarity.
There is much here to recommend Field Manual to fans of Death Cab For Cutie (for whom Walla plays guitar and produces), but if Walla intends to propel Dennis Kucinich to the White House, there remains work to be done.
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