Death Cab for Cutie Narrow Stairs by: Ed Butler Wed:06-Aug-08 Label: Atlantic Year: 2008 WB rating 74 out of 100

Like it or not, being the indie darlings of the OC set has been defining for Death Cab for Cutie. Despite being well established before the Seth Cohen-led following of Transatlanticism, Death Cab, as they have become roundly known, took off. In the space of a year, they went from journeyman purveyors of indie rock that flirted with the mainstream to card-carrying icons of the young and beautiful. They became, in short, a missing link.

Ben Gibbard and Chris Walla, like a diet Lennon-McCartney duo from across the Atlantic, brought a distinct enough combination of experimental eccentricity and pop aesthetics to garner critical and commercial acclaim. The combination of Transatlanticism’s quality and the success of tracks like ‘The Sound of Settling’ meshed with an instant, and well-heeled, new fan base.

Then, on 2005’s Plans, they crossed over. The very essence of ordinariness, Plans was an object lesson in how to dumb down a sound that had been cultivated over prior albums of lushly produced alternative rock. Death Cab were never going to reinvent the alt.wheel, but they were creative enough to have developed a signature sound in a fairly brief time. To destroy it so callously, and readily, was a disappointment that it seems the band felt that they had to live down.

As such, Death Cab have forcibly removed themselves from that particular milieu. Narrow Stairs positively reeks of a band attempting to recapture something that has gone missing. There was no need for a four-minute instrumental introduction to the gently epic ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’, but as the song languidly unfurls itself around Nick Harmer’s menacingly sexual bassline, the appropriateness of Death Cab For Cutie’s enforced maturity is clearly evident.

Eight-and-a-half minutes with nary a decent climax in sight – a skittering laptop-beat breakdown seven minutes in. To make half a song an introduction, with snaky bass, Wilco-esque piano spurts and discordant chiming guitar feedback wafting through is achievement enough. To resist the understandably irresistible temptation to capitalise on this intensely emotional buildup with a knee-shaking climax is a demonstration of how determined the band was to confound expectations. And 'I Will Possess Your Heart' is a great song.

Immediately following this is 'No Sunlight', which, in Gibbard's hands three years ago would likely have drifted along aimlessly on its own trite prettiness, but today, hazy guitar feedback and curious keyboard tinkles are all signs of the new, grown-up Death Cab. Likewise, the mid-album one-two punch of 'You Can Do Better than Me' and 'Grapevine Fires' is among the best things the band has put to tape.

'You Can Do…' in particular, has a vaguely late-60s London swing feel to it, coming in at under two minutes, there appears to be no pressing need among the band to ride a good thing to what they would once view as its inevitable conclusion. In this sense, it is reminiscent of 'Sound of Settling', where it would have been so simple to throw in four or five chorus repeats, milking the ultra-catchy hook for all it was worth. This song serves as a gentle prelude to its successor, a song that is undoubtedly the most adult thing the band has done. This is a good thing.

Of course, when a band gets forcibly creative, things are bound to go pear-shaped somewhere. 'Talking Birds', a sloth-paced dirge built on the back of yet more guitar feedback, suggests the gents got a touch carried away with their distortion pedals. Here, rather than adding texture and menace, they grate. 'Long Division' uses catchy pop-punk rhythms to disguise some pretty horrendous lyrics "Remainder!/Remainder!". Ugh.

Then, the sitar melody, mirrored by Gibbard's vocals, leads into 'Pity and Fear' and everything is alright again. While the Eastern-influences schtick has had the shit kicked out of it since George Harrison dropped acid in Nepal, when done well, it still works.

Maybe it's because Marissa Cooper (Mischa Barton) died. Maybe it's because the OC died. Perhaps this is a mourning album. But moving on from that ragtag collection of fictional ultra-wealthy suburbanite 90210 clones is possibly the best thing Death Cab for Cutie ever did. While Narrow Stairs is no Transatlanticism, it leaves Plans in the dust, crying for its mum. It is universally gratifying to hear a talented band pushing itself beyond the boundaries they set themselves in the past, irrespective of whether they ultimately succeed or fail. And here, Death Cab for Cutie, against all odds, succeed.