"Content Nausea" Review

There is mounting confusion surrounding the band behind the album Content Nausea. No, there are no lingering questions concerning their fate, and certainly none concerning their ability. At the end of the day, the question that is bugging everyone is plain and simple: What is their fucking name? We cannot overlook, as so many will, that two of Parquet Courts' last four records (all released in an impressive two year span) have fallen under the alias Parkay Quarts. What, if anything, separates a Parquet Courts album from a Parkay Quarts album? Is this mere tomfoolery cooked up by a band of Brooklyn punks, or do names still carry weight?

From a personnel stance, Parkay Quarts is a project orchestrated by singer/guitarists Andrew Savage and Austin Brown, substituting Parquet Courts' bassist Sean Yeaton and drummer Max Savage for various outside musicians. Their first Parkay Quarts experiment, Tally Up All the Things That You Broke, which included the uncharacteristically clanky, dance-y "He's Seeing Paths," was much more willing to depart from the indie garage rock template that Parquet Courts normally operates within. While Tally presented itself more as a bonus EP in between Courts albums, Content Nausea's thematic consistency and tendency to move into uncharted territory make it a fully fleshed out project that deserves to be discussed with the band's best work. 

A strong current of paranoia and self-doubt runs through nearly every song on Content Nausea. Savage and Brown take turns mutedly reciting chants of "fear's taking over" and "everyday it starts: anxiety." Twitching and moaning guitar makes this neurosis tangible, a technique that is best displayed on "The Map," a piece that lyrically unfolds much like a short story. It follows a young man who asks his shrink to pinpoint the source of his issues, and is given a physical map of all of his suffering in return. It almost sounds like a long lost outtake from The Velvet Underground's White Light/White Heat (minus all that bodily mutilation). The various interludes that are interspersed throughout ("Urban Ease," "Kevlar Walls," "No Concept") reek of uncertainty and industrial decay. While existential anguish in the big city is not necessarily a new topic in Savage and Brown's music, some of these songs take worries that they would usually shrug off in a Parquet Courts song to an unavoidable, downright apocalyptic level. 

But Content Nausea is not all doom and gloom. Courts/Quarts' ace in the hole has always been their mastery of controlling pace, and whenever the listener looks for a shot of energy, this album delivers. "Pretty Machines," with its brash horns, might be their most fun song to date, while the completely unexpected cover of "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" is a risk that was well-worth taking. "Uncast Shadow of a Southern Myth," a song far grander in scope than any of the eleven before it, is a meandering death march through the history of the American South, all told from the perspective of a man defending his home with a gun in hand. The song is a giant powder keg, and when the fire finally reaches the end of the fuse, the resulting blast is all-consuming anger unfettered by any of the cool guy dronings of a "Stoned and Starving" or an "Instant Disassembly." If the past two years have been any indication, Parquet Courts will return soon, adding another bunch of speedy jams to their repertoire. In the meantime, Parkay Quarts continue to widen their fanbase and show just how expansive their skillset is. No matter what they call themselves, their future is looking bright.