Pitchfork

Sam Prekop's Voice and I are hanging out at the Lincoln Park Zoo, watching the penguins, for they are hilarious. We're having a good day-- it's sunny out, the wind off the lake isn't unbearable, and we're gonna hit up Gino's East later-- but there's an ulterior reason I brought Sam Prekop's Voice out here. I have something to say to Sam Prekop's Voice, and I have to get it off my chest.

Sam Prekop's Voice and I go way back, and we've had some great times together. I might've missed those years with Shrimp Boat-- hey, I was young, what can I tell you?-- but along with Tortoise, The Sea and Cake was there to help me feel like I was down with the city whose suburbs I haunted during my formative years. Tortoise was the post-rock figurehead, of course, but I always felt a bit more affinity for The Sea and Cake. Even though the two bands only shared one member, The Sea and Cake always seemed like Tortoise's pop spin-off, and, pop fan that I am, I dug it.

The Sea and Cake has since become a downright staple of indie rock, spreading six albums out over a ten-year career. Things seemed to be getting better, too: 2001's Oui was the band's most consistent album, the fullest realization of their deceptively creative, soft-rock sound. Sam Prekop's Voice has been growing in confidence the whole time, appearing higher and higher in the mix, embracing a unique sort of breathy rasp that nicely complemented Oui's winter-by-the-Lake ambience.

The Sea and Cake's sixth record is a good one, showing the band isn't running willy-nilly from the sinking post-rock ship, instead subtly incorporating the electronic dance-beats that have inched back into the indie vocabulary. One Bedroom launches with a thick instrumental jam ("Four Corners") that proves the band remain technically sharp as knives; Eric Claridge's tuneful bass leads the charge over percussive guitars and John McEntire's constantly shape-shifting drums. Yet, I turn now to face Sam Prekop's Voice, and realize that it must be said:

"I don't know, SPV, I think you might've gone too far on One Bedroom. Voice, my friend, when you come in mixed higher than ever, after three minutes of solid white-boy groove, it's a lot for a man to take. I'm not sure where that windy timbre comes from-- sucking Camels, monoxide, Sharpies-- and I'll grant you it's distinctive, but it's also terribly limiting, with a range so narrow, anyone with more than a couple Sea and Cake records has already heard all that you can do. On "Four Corners", even the music seems disappointed with you, each element of the jam slowly peeling off under your whisper-croon, and when you return at its close, you're defeated, subdued.

"It's sad that you've become such an obstacle, SPV, since on One Bedroom the band occasionally pumps out some of its best music yet. Like Richard Pryor in Superman 3, recent Tortoise tracks (i.e. "CTA", off Chocolate Industries' Urban Renewal comp) had McEntire's rhythms pumped in the studio, and he brings that increased machinery to this album. "Hotel Tell" hinges on a throbbing bass drum and some decorative handclaps, and they augment the beat in "Shoulder Length" with a toy-box full of buzzes and clicks. Keyboards abound like never before on a Sea and Cake record, de-emphasizing the signature hard-rhythm guitar and-- miraculously-- deposing the vibraphone. My word, has Chicago finally put away the mallets?

"It wouldn't be entirely fair to lay all the blame at your, um, feet, Sam Prekop's Voice. One Bedroom also signals a return to the half-on/half-off inconsistency that marred all Sea and Cake albums except Nassau and Oui, as a handful of misfires trip up the flow. Songs like "Try Nothing", "Le Baron" and "Interiors" can't distract from the vocals, and fall over the lite-rock cliff, string, synths and all.

"It says something that the record's closer, a dolled-up cover of David Bowie's "Sound and Vision", is the most exciting track here. It's also the one that most covers up your limitations, SPV. Going all the way with those soft-rock keyboards, completely buying into the electronic drums, "Sound and Vision" also mixes in singing from the Aluminum Group's Navin Brothers. The result is a reasonable facsimile of what The Human League might've done with the song; it barely skirts the elevator music issue, ending up a sublime work of EZ-Indie.

"I mean, I feel like kind of an ass being this hard on you, to your face no less. A man can't help the way he sings, but you didn't always sound like this; I dug out the back catalog to make sure. Hey, look at trusty old Archer Prewitt over there, he's a damn fine singer in his own right. Calm down, SPV, all I'm saying is consider scaling it back a bit. It might be just the push The Sea and Cake need to evolve as a band, before you become water-treading caricature. C'mon, suck in that lower lip, let's get a pizza; I'm buying. You like pepperoni, right?"