Chris Walla, while most known for his multi-instrumental contributions to Death Cab for Cutie, is also an accomplished producer who has given time and talent to bands such as Nada Surf, Tegan and Sara and the Decemberists. Finally, he has lent his production expertise and talent as a musician to a studio solo album titled Field Manual.
For those familiar with Death Cab for Cutie's earnest lyrics and heavy melodies, Field Manual is going to seem fairly reminiscent once the listener gets past the first couple of songs. The CD opens with multi-voiced singing that sounds vaguely like chanting monks -- if chanting monks were more fast-paced. The sound of "Two-Fifty" fits well with the song's message of banding together, moving forward and moving on.
The next song, "The Score," immediately pounds into an upbeat, rocking melody, flowing a lot closer to mainstream alternative rock than anything else Walla has worked on. Never fear, however, because the CD moves back into the realm of the alternative with "A Bird is a Song." Sincere lyrics combined with a lilting melody push toward a peak with the refrain, "Keep your feathers clean and dry."
After pulling you into a deep and thoughtful place with "A Bird is a Song," Walla gets the urge to yank you back out of it with the next song on the CD, ominously titled "Geometry &c."
Not to worry: There is no math involved, just the puzzle of people fitting together "like wordless versing." Those well-versed in Walla's other contributions to the music scene might be sent into shock with the next lyrics, however, as he puts this "wordless versing" into practice with a well-placed "da-dee-dum-dum, da-dee-dum-dum, da-dee-dum." Though this buoyant humming is totally unexpected from the Death Cab front man, it fits well with the tune and love-pop message.
With a wide variety of songs, it's hard to believe the majority of them would be indistinguishable from Walla's home band. After listening to Field Manual, it's pretty obvious where Death Cab gets their sound and style from. No matter whether the song is lighthearted or mournful, pensive or pounding, it feels, sounds, even looks like Death Cab.
The differences lie in the lyrics. Where Death Cab seems to focus on the "I" and the "you" in a personal and individual sense, Walla seems to be reaching out further, using the all encompassing "we" that could pertain to only two people, but often seems to include more. It is a "we" to include all the disenfranchised youth, those calling out against our national apathy and anyone who is looking for someone who understands.
This is epitomized in the poetic lyrics of "Sing Again," which calls out its message masked in metaphor and disjointed lists. In any other world, by any other voice, the message would be lost, but Walla's plaintive sound and matching melody only serve to emphasize the idea, bundled up into one line -- "If we still cared at all we'd send a battle call."
So though it is easy to get lost in the Death Cab similarities, it only takes a little more invested listening to discover that Chris Walla has something to say, and Field Manual is his medium for doing so.