Since Hospice, I’ve had a confusing relationship with The Antlers. The narrative of the album, which you can barely hear through the creepy whispers of Peter Silberman, was depressing and ominous enough to scare me off entirely. Yet listening to Familiars has completely revived my interest in the band. The lyrics are genuine (and may I add, audible) and the music is soulful enough to really get under your skin. Silberman’s voice is a force of passion and it’s a true wonder that he ever made it secondary to instrumentals. That said, the contributing noises of the album—which often include blaring trumpets and bluesy guitar stops—are emotionally heavy and original. Familiars treats itself with a wild tenderness and brilliant affection; it feels like moving forward.
Among its innumerable assets, Familiars is danceable. By danceable, I mean it deserves the kind of “gettin’ down” somehow reserved for both lonely Friday nights and long-term loves (see “Hotel”). The album has amazing rhythm but only truly releases itself through the sweetness of Silberman’s voice. It’s personal. The lyrics will make you wonder what you’re maybe running away from; the words face inward and address the listener with a personal intimacy and understanding.
It’s clear that The Antlers have the entire indie spectrum down. From rhythmic to depressing as eff, soulful and bluesy to gooey and romantic (“Palace”), Familiars covers the whole damn thing. The album itself is a dream of sweet self-reflection that feels all too real.
Familiars