TV On The Radio - 'Dear Science' (4AD) Released 22/09/08

‘Dear Science’ is the eagerly yet quietly anticipated album to come from New York’s TV On The Radio; eagerly because of the critical acclaim the band have justifiably garnered over the years, yet quietly because of the expectation surrounding it and expectation can be a notoriously hard and disappointing mistress to tame. A position made even more unenviable with both critics and cynics alike prematurely deliberating over the descriptive merits of the word ‘classic’. But this incredibly multitalented band led by David Sitek have arguably produced the most complete album of 2008 and one that far exceeds the surrounding hype.

Adequately punching above their perceived weight, album number four is a diverse and comprehensive collection of musical muscle, containing more than a languid clutch of anthems, tunes and associated fillers. As if responding to an imaginary challenge, the album opens with the gliding powerhouse of ‘Halfway Home’, where calculated pace collides with epically restrained drums, as layers of integrity, ability and self-propelling vision lay audacious foundations for the remaining ten tracks to build on. If opposites attract then the shivering funk embossed guitar of ‘Crying’, is the perfect track to follow before mutating into the schizophrenic dub drone fuzz of ‘Dancing Choose’ complete with manipulative vocals that separate light from dark and through a dexterous command of pronunciation and intonation constantly shape, mould, distort and bend the albums dynamic texture.

A challenging labyrinth of rapidly evolving intricacies, the enormity of ‘Dear Science’ demands repeated listening for its shimmering honesty to be fully appreciated. An intense musical master-class, the groundswell of ‘Golden Age’, ‘Shout Me Out’ and ‘DLZ’ ferment with an alluring primeval menace while ‘Red Dress’ angrily shakes its sociopolitical fist at the American government’s thinly veiled Whore of Babylon disguise. There’s also an emotional underscore inextricably linked to this multifaceted opus; the stirring strings and affecting piano that permeate ‘Stork & Owl’ alongside the illusory confusion of ‘Love Dog’ are hypnotically infectious. But it’s the swirling orchestral poignancy of ‘Family Tree’ and the deafening silence left in its wake that is supremely majestic.

Signaling the albums last breath while honouring a proud disregard for genre specific allocation, the military precision, tickertape pomp and street parade euphoria of ‘Lovers Day’ not only befits an epically intelligent, complex and masterful body of contradiction and conviction but practically guarantees its ‘classic’ status, prematurely or not.