Pitchfork

Man, I hate when an album doesn't match up to the review I had planned for it. Months ago, I'd artfully conceived a righteous corrective of all the bum raps David Bazan has received over the years, both from this esteemed institution and others. Valiantly, I'd position myself between the mournful singer/songwriter and the sharp arrows of our vicious kind, praising him as one of the finest modern practitioners of the lost concept album arts, while simultaneously mocking the IndieWorld reflex to immediately disparage anyone who dares discuss something so bourgeois as religion. Oh, the gleeful self-satisfaction that would be had!

Then I heard the album. No glee.

For starters, Achilles Heel finds Bazan taking a respite from the song cycles that have graced his last two fine efforts, Winners Never Quit and Control. And while the Lion certainly has a right to an intermission from his musical Decalogue, losing the narrative push sucks the heart out of these songs, leaving a mope-rock shell that's less than filling. Only the murder-tale of "Discretion" harks back to his previous style-- a short-story remnant of Bazan's minstrel talent, its bright light is obstructed by heavy-handed stand-alone songs about unhappiness in a socialist utopia, state infidelity, and bands dying in tour vans.

And then, there's the Jesus. While Sufjan Stevens has done wonders for hypnotizing indie folk into singing along with Sunday School lesson plans, Bazan continues to be the face on the scene dartboard for people's transposed aggression against the likes of Jerry Falwell. With hands pressed firmly over ears at the mere mention of the J or G words, most of these non-conformist conformists miss the context of Pedro's deity name-dropping, which is often as critical of organized religion (and better informed) as any of the Lion-haters claim to be. To his credit, Bazan never sounds like the kind of Christian robotically following clerical orders, but like a man looking for something, anything in which to find solace from an oppressively bleak world.

Unfortunately, Achilles Heel does little to explain those subtleties behind its Daniel-in-the-Lion's-Den cover art. While Bazan nastily skewers the kind of bible-beater he's not in "Foregone Conclusions" ("You were too busy steering the conversation toward the Lord/ To hear the voice of the spirit begging you to shut the fuh-uck up"), he turns in an unbelievably limp defense of faith just one track later. "The Fleecing" appears to be a form of response to his hipster detractors, but crumples under vague answers and a flimsy sheep metaphor, ultimately coming off as preachy as people blindly expect Bazan to be.

Whether it's the lack of plot, insight, or collaborators, Achilles Heel also finds Bazan's music stuck in a room with no exits, with one loping distortion-pedal crawler after another. Save "Discretion", gone are the thunderstorm drums that underscored the pathos of Control, sunk in the mix are the keyboard counter-melodies that have brightened past efforts, and what's left is Bazan wailing the rules to Rock Paper Scissors in "Arizona". "Keep Swinging" half-successfully attempts an evolution of his approach with its cutely awkward bass groove and jarring harmonies, but it's mired in formless fuzz and distortion. The surprising falsetto of the green-with-envy "Bands with Managers" and the deceptively peppy "Transcontinental" could make the A-team of the Pedro catalog, but it's telling that the latter track's "1, 2, 3, 4" drumstick-clack intro could lead into any track on the album.

With Achilles Heel so topographically uniform, it's tempting to declare the well dry for Bazan's sound, particularly considering how closely he veers to self-parody within this album's boundaries. But after a quick refresher with his last two albums to remember why I wanted to defend his work in the first place, I'm willing to give David the benefit of the doubt, labeling Achilles a stumble rather than a death knell. With concept albums coming back into style like neon clothing, it shouldn't be hard for Pedro the Lion to revert to reminding us in ten thematically related songs or less how ugly mankind can be. Then maybe I can use that review I've got stored up for him.