Brooklyn quintet Caveman’s self-titled sophomore album, out this week on Fat Possum, is what I would classify as “cold rock.” Some refer to it more condescendingly as “Dad rock” because it borrows its mold from the Rolling Stones standard of classical rock and might appeal to your Eagles-loving father (yes we all unfortunately have them). This is certainly evident in Caveman’s sound, but moreover it is the sort of rock that, built upon a solid percussive and guitar backbone, cranks up the reverb and turns down the energy to leave you with a colder, more expansive sound. It mirrors shoegaze and dreampop but it never abandons its soft-rock core.
For fans of these styles, Caveman is a must-listen. It hardly matters what track you are listening to, as all bear similarities and offer comparable merits. The beautifully somber craft, gentle, driving percussion, and cozy, wintry melodies permeate the album equally throughout and with each additional listen seem to lull you a little further into the relaxing abode of their snug soundscape. The exception to this uniformly dreamy appeal is the upbeat “In the City,” an instantly likeable track with pseudo-pop melodies and synth-suffused ambiances.
Most tracks are, appropriately, cavernous-sounding with a bar-band flavor to them. Consistent use of dreamy guitars elevate their sounds to a higher plane however, though tracks like “Never Want to Know” and “The Big Push” are rather too drowned in reverb. Meanwhile, intimate vocals and harmonious crooning imbue the tracks with a sense of fragility and wonder, and can verge on spiritual, as in the folkish “I See You,” or be burdened with weary wisdom, as in the forlornly beautiful “Shut You Down.”
Songs evolve slowly and build with passionate layers until you’re lost in a reflective glory of sound. It may be “Dad music” but if this band seeks to learn from our musical forefathers, then it’s nigh possible our successive generation will continue the cycle by looking back to them for musical inspiration.
