The Warm Solitude Of Grizzly Bear's Yellow House

 

At the very edge of the state of Massachusetts lies a hook-shaped peninsula. Cape Cod, a holiday resort in the warmer parts of the year, is perhaps one of the more pleasant havens of the US east coast. Unbeknownst to most, the sunny get-away would become home to one of the most impressive baroque pop and folk records of the mid 2000s, leaving a shimmering dent in the structure of a melancholic scene dubbed Pitchfolk by The Guardian magazine and bringing forth acoustic texture along with blooming beauty.

Though the word “home” hides no clever symbolism. The warmly welcoming radiance of Grizzly Bear’s 2006 indie classic “Yellow House” is a carefully crafted puzzle, highly influenced by both the technical possibilities of a newly formed band and the vast recording space of a house near Cape Cod. Previously owned by the mother of Grizzly Bear’s Ed Droste, the new location toyed with the dynamics of a band whose roots were deeply interwoven within the confines of an originally urban landscape. Glimpses of a sonic reverie could be spotted from the front windows of a seemingly ordinary house as the band looped back and forth their instruments, layering one loose idea on top of another.

The interior of the very same would find a spot on the album cover as well. A vibrant manifestation of a truly homecoming experience. Stoic and reserved, the photograph is bathed in a similar yellow hue that recalls Rembrandt’s best work. The period in which Grizzly Bear lived in Cape Cod was both a possibility at an alternative recording studio as well as a get-away filled with cocktail sessions and solitary retrospective. 

Daringly hopping between every folk variable, mixing lush baroque pop phrases with cascades of orchestral vocal passages and bending archaic atmosphere to its will, the dreamy psychedelia of Yellow House is a painter’s palette brimming with rich colours, sounds and evocations. An album difficult to capture or replicate, it reinvented the genre of folk that the band passionately shrugged off. Often regarded as Grizzly Bear’s most profound record, the soft debut is peerless, seemingly lacking comparison to other indie rock musicians that could come close to the tone of Yellow House’s Baroque fairytale.

 

“Their name became synonymous with oddly beautiful songs, passionately sung and richly arranged in ever-shifting shades of rock, folk, jazz, and psychedelia.” (Source: Vulture, Grizzly Bear Are Still Here, 2017)

The Grizzly Bear blueprint was always present, albeit hardly indicative of what exactly the one man lo/fi bedroom folk project would morph into. Building from the ground up as new perspectives and chances at collaboration presented themselves, Grizzly Bear’s creator Ed Droste, a member of a fully musician based family, matured along with the band. Eventually replacing the purposefully detached nihilism with vibrant musical craftsmanship. 

The initial, “Horn Of Plenty” era material was unpolished, with occasional glimpses of excellence, “mixing acoustic guitar with field tapes, drum machines, and vocals, yielding curious and slow-moving ambient musical landscapes”. In retrospect, Droste recalls the early demos as “a cathartic release for shit that I was dealing with at the time, it was like writing in your diary.” (Source: Under The Radar, July 24, 2014).

It was the contribution of fellow musicians Christopher Bear (with his prior assistance on Horn Of Plenty), Christopher Taylor and Daniel Rossen that brought in some much needed flair. Brushing off thick layers of dust, the aspirations of a now fully fledged band manifesting themselves in the form of Yellow House which introduced a glare of warmth, removing any and all allusions to The Microphones from the material’s grim canvas. 

Drawing back the gray curtain, a display of orchestral wonder and instrumental chemistry was revealed. Poignantly beautiful and liberated, Yellow House was as ungraspable as it was easily approachable. Without a doubt, the first thing that stands out is the tonal richness. Layers of shimmering acoustic guitars sit neatly on top of harmonious vocal passages, brief archaic key transitions reminiscent of a voyeuristic glimpse at a 1800s concerto, vibrant banjo notes echoing the wonderful arrangement of old and new. The album’s detail oriented nature rarely bogs down the listening experience and even at its slowest and most sluggish, the album is still pleasant and diverse. 

Take the spine chilling “Marla’, a cover of Droste’s grandmother’s track from the 1920s. Introducing a blend of menacing string arrangements and partnered with Droste’s uncanny vocal delivery, the song blossoms ever so slightly at the midway point. Traces of cartoony psychedelia can be felt, the lyrical subject whose search for increasingly more bizarre and metaphysical objects is reminiscent of Alice’s fall through the rabbit hole, grasping at what exactly this new reality holds and whether the journey has a finish line. The almost Macabre transition catches the listener off guard and disappears for good. 

 

The allusions to contemporary indie of “On A Neck On A Spit” blossom into a flourish filled with rising crescendos as Daniel Rossen takes up the vocal work helm and reflects on coming to terms with his isolation and willing solitude:

“Each day, spend it with you now

Each day, I spend it with you now

All my time, spend it with you now

All my time, spend it with you, but

Out here, no one can hear me

Out here, nobody can hear me”

“The second half of that song was written one day while the band was rehearsing up in a remote part of Cape Cod. It was a beautiful place and remote enough that I could leave the house and walk for hours without seeing anyone,” reflected the soft-spoken Rossen. “The melody and words of the song came about while I was sitting out on a rock playing the guitar. At that moment “out here no one can hear me” was a true statement. The lyrics in the second half of that song were like a mantra, and a way of taking something a little frightening and finding some power in it. In large part, I’d say that was a song about coming to terms with myself as a loner and celebrating that.” (Source Genius, Yellow House, 2013)

At its core, Yellow House is a complete rejuvenation. A display of masterful arrangements that shift from theatrical to reflective. Layers of controlled chaos and attention grabbing pointers that rarely feel idle. With a rare kindred relationship between melodies, Grizzly Bear left something very special - an ever moving Flemish experience whose legacy transcends contemporary art.