Letters Letters - "Letters Letters"

Letters Letters - Wishing Well (Type 2007)

Letters Letters - Letters Letters / Type

Type Records have been on lately, let's just say it. With not only Helios but Skallander having tickled the ears of Audiversity recently, Letters Letters joins them to complete a summer triumverate (even though it's supposed to be fall; what happened to cold weather, Chicago? I thought I was supposed to be afraid of your fiercesome frost) you and yours will hopefully be able to enjoy long after the year ends.

Like those two groups, Letters Letters approaches pop music on the most basic of levels to produce a twist of their own. Unlike those two groups (or a lot of the rest of the Type roster), Letters Letters comes out sounding like a gritty, early-80s No Wave pop group. This is challenging music with hooks and the best part is that no matter how many times you go back to listen, there is always something new to be found in an eclectic mix of sounds.

Who they are: Mitchell Akiyama, Tony Boggs and Jenna Robertson. Akiyama is a solo avant-garde electronic artist working out of indie hotbed Montreal and has worked with Chicago-based Boggs, who also doubles as Joshua Treble. Robertson also works out of Montreal as Avia Gardner. Though they have all mostly worked solo or collaborated informally, Letters Letters represents the first time these three heads have been put together to create something solid. This self-titled debut is their result, and its pastiche of Arthur Russell and Bikini Kill has been accurately described in biographies.

Those aren't the only reference points, but as you delve into the feedback-draped "Favorite Hands," it's clear once the analog synths emerge and the song clears itself up to have the whispery Boggs singing sweetly over atonal wails that the spirit of Russell is there. The spirit of Sonic Youth is there, too. It's an awesome song, flatly. There's melody, there's no melody, there's a steady beat, there's broken beats. If you didn't know that Akiyama was also on Alien8 at one time and that Alien8 used to kill, you'd almost accuse this trio of being Brooklynites.

But that cutesy indie-pop heart that beats so loudly throughout Montreal isn't absent, either. It's no Sunset Rubdown or Arcade Fire by any means, but maybe the softer moments from Stars are there in the bayou ballad "We'll Make our Home." This is the first instance of an extra dimension that makes Letters Letters as a band and an album so appealing beyond a typical niche of No Wave revivalists and know-it-all hipsters: Robertson's female voice balances out well with Boggs and his earnest-but-fragile delivery. Robertson gives strength to the vocals when she thinks it necessary, but this should be expected. The woman is a self-professed riot grrrl and has more fire in her than she allows herself on this record, but the restraint is part of the fascinating cohesion of the album.

The first half of the lengthy "Everyone's Afraid of Fear" (It clocks in at just shy of six minutes) is totally instrumental. You keep expecting to hear something about unicorns or blowjobs in the park or some other fantastical topic, but nothing comes and the tension sits in the room like a loaded elephant. Then, just past halfway, the song transforms itself into a DFA-approved jungle track that remains based in the acoustic guitar and steady kickdrum that started the song to begin with. Only once Robertson and the kickdrum are left does it die a quiet death.

The percussion returns for "Between the Seams," but this isn't the only song to feature interesting elements à la Gang Gang Dance. I'm pretty sure I thought I heard Konono No. 1 in the primitive keyboard manifestations of "Iron Mountain." Then there was Telepathe on "Wishing Well," and on a related note First Nation somewhere around "Everything Always." What all of this means is, Letters Letters has something for everyone somewhere in its 42 minutes. That almost makes posting an mp3 pointless, because it's difficult to sum up this group's essence with just one song. To fully enjoy this band, play the whole thing through. It's so much better that way.

Its left-field pop won't always come immediately to the listener, but after a few listens you start to hear crazy things. High-pitched synths buzzing in the jungles; 8-bit Casio beats; art-damaged hooks in the quagmire of found-sound noise; catchy tunes you'll find yourself humming long after the album is over. As far as pop goes, if you're testing the limits of what people consider palatable and they can still remember how the twisted lounge of "In a Way" goes, you've got something special on your hands. This may be the only album Letters Letters ever make, deciding instead that they are better off collaborating on a small scale or working on their own. But if that's the case, at least we can say we had one extraordinary little album to enjoy. Thanks for the memories.