Cleopatra: A Little Too Emotionally Neat?

There’s something to be said for how an album comes across – especially the often dreaded sophomore record – when the previous music of a band known for fast fame, hasn’t managed to flood one’s ears or impart unavoidable expectations in one’s mind.

The Lumineers’ newest album, Cleopatra, which comes out tomorrow, April 8 (Dualtone), is the long awaited follow up to their eponymous debut (Dualtone, 2012). After a lightning quick rush to widespread fame, straight on the “Ho Hey” highway, the folk rock band’s founding sound was certainly at risk for some level of over saturation and subsequent bias among fans and the future potential thereof. Reacting to this second effort while looking through that kind of ingrained lens undoubtedly positions Cleopatra on an immediate scale of better, worse, and “how much?”. Taking in the album as its own work and apart from such skew however, not only takes the impulse for overly intense scrutiny away but lets the band be heard for what they are now rather than what they were.

The 11 track record flies by at a mere 34 minutes – not far outside the current average length of an EP release, as opposed to a full length record. During those quickly passing moments, there are a few general impressions that slowly but unwaveringly form as takeaways by the time the album has ended. Very little in the way of individual track shock or sticking power manages to break through while listening. Despite the fact that there are the designated single tracks, which somewhat stick out purely due to higher exposure, if one closes their eyes or refrains from diligently keeping track of when a piece ends and the next begins, this homogenous factor starts to become more noticeable.

There are two ways this can be viewed. Part of the similarity that carries through Cleopatra is the very open, echoing stylization The Lumineers placed on the music – specifically the vocals. One could visualize the band performing the entire record in a giant industrial warehouse, belted phrases like that in lead single “Ophelia,” (I, I got a little paycheck / You got big plans and you gotta move) bouncing off the walls, creating the cavernous aspect running throughout. This production choice highlights a spine of cohesion bordering close to a sonic theme and that in and of itself is worth a pleased nod. Sprinklings of fleeting moments fall within (e.g. the occasional twist of blue note slides during “In The Light”) that elicit flickers of intrigue but, these flashes feel more like the exception to the rule rather than the majority.

On the other hand, even though decisions pertaining to recording and mixing have helped to artistically evoke the more weighted and contemplative mentality exhibited in Cleopatra’s subject matter, it’s difficult to embrace the idea of the band opening up to have a complete emotional release or outpouring, due to the contrasting nature of the songs’ structures. Maybe it’s a coincidence or maybe the group said everything necessary and nothing more on each track, but, the majority of the album’s songs hover around the 2:30-3:30 mark – a coincidentally, nice radio friendly benchmark.

In the grand scheme of The Lumineers’ development to date, they have managed to project a defined shift in mood with this record and so have avoided the label of emotionally stunted band. Nevertheless, even when appreciated apart from its predecessor, Cleopatra struggles to make itself memorable – caught between trying to show thematic consistency and vulnerability, while not diverging enough for the latter to really get driven down into the heart.