Capgun Coup Brought to You by Nebraskafish by: Dan Osmolowski Wed:13-Feb-08 Label: Team Love Year: 2007 WB rating 71 out of 100

When asked by Rolling Stone what was on his stereo, Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst’s single pick was the “amazing” Capgun Coup. That’s one hell of an endorsement for a band releasing their debut record. He described Brought to You by Nebraskafish as “sort of all over the place, pretty weird indie rock” and whilst there is nothing unsettlingly weird about the record it certainly does play like an aural dog’s breakfast. Don’t get me wrong, this is not a particularly bad thing; indeed, the album does have a focus: it’s unashamedly unfocussed.

If that sounds confusing, don’t let it be. Nebraskafish is a shambolic, diverse patchwork assembled from two years worth of recordings – it doesn’t strictly feel like an album but more of a compilation of songs. This presents a problem if you’re expecting a smooth, thematic ride from beginning to end; taking examples from the past year, albums by the likes of Arcade Fire, Spoon, The National and Radiohead fit this bill nicely. If you’re interested in hearing a raw and exciting mélange of genres that won’t play nicely as the soundtrack to your next dinner party, then read on. 

In many ways Capgun Coup are a great cover band that play originals; so diverse is their musical palette that writing a review for this Omaha four-piece begins to read like an anthology of popular music.  As a brief guide, Nebraskafish features the following, in no particular order: country-rock, underground hip-hop, punk, pop, noise rock, freak folk, and plain ol’ rock ‘n’ roll. Most importantly, they are all played with an appreciation of the origins of the music but they are all stretched within the boundaries of what defines those styles.

After a John F Kennedy vocal sample opens the record (the reoccurrence of these types of samples is one of the album’s shortcomings), ‘Oh, My Mod’ - a delicate, restrained number - sets the lyrical tone for the rest of the album with some refreshingly self-deprecating lines (“we’ll own up to all of our wrongs/sing about them in all of our Goddamn songs”). Judging by this, it’s clear that the Capgun Coup don’t take themselves too seriously. When they do offer up words of wisdom they are sensitive and insightful (“there is no God or Satan below or above/just love and what you make of it”) and they never sound awkward or forced in their sentiment. ‘Social Security Number’ then kick-starts the album into life with some dirty indie-pop in a fashion that comes across like a drunken Stephen Malkmus fronting a deranged Wrens. There’s also an element of the Walkmen’s intoxicated bar-room swagger about much of Nebraskafish and it makes for one hell of a good time.

The album’s real triumph arrives midway through, with a troika of great pop songs. ‘Adorable Footsteps’ nails the band’s love of the pop aesthetic with some fine honky-tonk piano and hilariously overt sexual lyrics (“I don’t care if I’m the 31st guy/I’d like a piece of that pie before I die”); ‘Fucked’ bobs along to some roller-rink organ and ‘A Talentless Tragic Kid’s Cattle List’ is a wonderfully wonky theme park rollercoaster ride that threatens to derail before taking yet another plunge into some random melodic musings. The highpoint of hilarity (not often found on serious indie rock records) is the one and only (that I know of) homage to Clouddead on ‘Bobby Chops and The Do-Gooders’; the straight-ahead, feel good, country-rock number breaks down suddenly into a take on Doseone’s schizophrenic vocal ramblings and Odd Nosdam’s plodding staccato rhythms – a nice inclusion for the musical train spotter.

The sandpaper production and spontaneous recordings – that seem devoid of multiple takes and overdubs – lends the album a DIY charm.  Indeed, it often sounds like a live album if it wasn’t for the vocal samples and brief instrumental interludes.  So close is it in spirit, that the band could have gotten away with releasing their debut, ala MC5’s Kick Out The Jams, as a live record – its disparate nature would suit the live setting and strip the necessity for the album to maintain the flow and consistency that very fine albums demand. 

Brought to You by Nebraskafish’s ‘civil disorder’ is certainly part of its charm, but it is also its shortfall. Here’s hoping we see a second album that is just as spirited but is less of a collection of incomplete (albeit engaging) incidences and occurrences and more of a singular narrative inspired by a narrower range of events and emotions. As it stands, Nebraskafish is like flipping through a photo album only to realise that every second photo is missing – you get the idea and still enjoy the ride but you’re not getting the whole picture.