New Bloods: The Secret Life

Tension and abrasion are two of the building

blocks of post-punk, but few of this decade's post-punk revivalists have

constructed anything durable out of them. The Portland trio New Bloods is an

exception, the rare outfit able to translate unease and malaise into delicate,

even gorgeous forms. Much of that has to do with the band's setup: violins,

bass, and drums. It's a sad statement that, circa 2008, it's still a

revolutionary move for an indie-rock band to ditch the guitar, but New Bloods

use that ostensible handicap as their greatest strength: Throughout their

debut, The Secret Life, songs are compressed, accelerated, whispered, and howled in

giddy fits of pressure and resolution—and from such friction, links to

post-punk forebears like The Raincoats and Dog Faced Hermans are forged with

familial strength and respectful distance simultaneously in mind. But there's a

fourth instrument at play: the twined voices of all three New Bloods, a

symbiotic hydra of harmony that writhes and wails in soulful cohesion, most notably

on the a cappella "Day After Day" and the haiku-like "Behind Mountains." More

post-folk than post-punk, The Secret Life is a soaring yet sturdy assemblage of

passion, intelligence, and the worship of inherent opposition—not to

mention one of the few records of its age and kind that bears promise for the

future.