Localized Vitamins

For some bands, putting together an album is simply a matter of arranging an assortment of stand-alone songs in an interesting way. For Vitamins, it’s more about the journey. When taken individually, each track on Songs For Stem Cells stands on its own, but when taken as a whole, the album operates on a completely different level.

Opening with what  sounds like a kettle whistling and a glass breaking in reverse, “Big Bang” explodes into a dark, wicked guitar riff, spilling over Crawford Philleo’s crashing, off-kilter drums as singer Lizzy Allen pulls the song into Jefferson-Airplane-as-stoner-metal territory with her low howl. On “Sequined Dress,” everything’s a little distorted and dark, twisting around with an ominously beautiful “ha ha ha” occasionally puncturing the churning, stormy prog-rock Vitamins have disguised as dance music. “Dark Matter” is warm and drenched in reverb, pushed by steady guitar pulses under bright, sparkling plucks on the higher strings and mimicked by the piano. Allen’s voice cuts through, singing harmonies on the high notes, soaring above the bass like a heartbeat. Then it’s crashing cymbals and another meaty riff, like Cocteau Twins with a vengeance/distortion pedal, before some ethereal “oohs” usher in a spacious, swirling jam that sends distorted guitar lines into a bottomless pit. “A Fear Of Rattles” starts off deceptively Feist-like, with mournful acoustic guitar and a slow, ride-heavy accompaniment from the drums. The track builds up before it booms with epic post-rock high string guitar work, sounding like the whole sky is falling before returning to its melancholy, autumnal roots.

The closing 11 minutes of Stem Cells are where Vitamins' best sounds culminate, as “Big Tears” opens slowly with ambient room noise, footsteps, and a banging screen door. A twanging guitar drifts in from the next room, and the song is lifted by raucous, old-timey saloon piano, drums, and bass that fall like the heavy feet of a drunken giant. The darkest part of the album is found in “Annual Bi-Centennial,” which is pumped through a looped and bubbling bass, playful arcade organ, and razorblade guitar. The organ becomes a little more ominous, hinting at something darker on the horizon. Eventually the record winds down into a horror-movie ending, a sea of music boxes turning out no discernable melody, Allen’s hollow voice cooing “oohs” into the blackness. Songs For Stem Cells clocks in at just over thirty minutes, which almost seems like some trick of the senses: A listen from beginning to end feels like a trip into a beautiful nightmare and back.

A.V. Club Grade: A