Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Some Loud Thunder, Self-released, 2007

I had just heard them live. This was a year or so ago and I was going in with no idea who they were and coming out with self-induced "Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's" scrawled all over my arm and hand, as if the words were the numbers of the most beautiful girls I had ever met; I definitely did not want to forget them. Turns out I wasn’t alone in my excitement. At all. Everyone––specifically indie rock tastemakers typing away on influential blogs like Pitchfork.com––was going head-over-tattered Converse for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s catchy, powerful indie pop.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was self-titled, self-produced, self-released, yet entirely un-self-hyped and came complete with twelve solid tracks featuring warm melodies, fuzzy guitars and captivatingly odd lyrics sung in a is-that-really-how-he-sings voice by Alec Ounsworth, the band’s frontman. The striking yellow album also came with an equally solid 9.0 of 10 rating from the aforementioned blog. This helped the out-of-nowhere group sell over 90,000 copies of their debut and still remain unsigned.
With these facts in mind, it is no wonder that Clap’s second album had quite a bit more pre-release hype surrounding it than their first. Still, the band remained unsigned, although they opted to splurge on one important detail. They recruited Dave Fridmann, best known for his work with the Flaming Lips, to produce Some Loud Thunder.
Some Loud Thunder differs greatly from the CYHSY’s first record, which was sunny and full of thick, creamy melodies. Thunder still has thick and creamy down, mostly, but much of the sun is no longer visible. Considering the album is named after stormy weather, the lack of warmth does make sense. In fact, the ideal environment for listening to this album would be next to a rain-streaked window, under a wool blanket with a headful of languorous decisions to make.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was chock full of dense, driving and sometimes synthesized instrumentation that sounded incredible in headphones. The melodies were so worn in and well crafted that you could not help but turn up the volume and listen to every single tiny guitar riff and drum thump. Over and over and over.
Thunder’s music is just as sophisticated and there is a lot to listen to. Much more than initially meets the ears. The album announces itself, somewhat disappointingly, with its title track. “Some Loud Thunder” is steeped in so much distortion that is makes it sound less like music and more like someone scraped you’re new CD over your gravel walkway while you weren’t looking. Near the end of the song, though, it becomes evident that you’re disc is fine and it starts sounding better, although a little less distortion wouldn’t hurt anyone. Piano is prominent on a couple of songs, too, and distorted, electronic beeps and blips are used to build up and maintain the beat of the frantic guitar and kick drum-driven “Satan Said Dance.”
The songs are much less succinct than those of the first album, opting instead for a more atmospheric and swirling quality, due largely to Fridmann’s being on the payroll. Though, like the first album, almost every song has a lovable, if not off-kilter, melody that keeps you bobbing your head in time. Some songs disguise it better than others. In “Emily Jean Stock” the beauty becomes evident about 50 seconds in, with a sweep of guitar and short, coughing drums. Then, near the end of the song, you discover one of Clap’s great anti-choruses (continual yelps of “it is a radio tells me so”) and more of those quick, addicting drums. In “Underwater (You and Me)” the tambourine and bass-heavy tune moves up and down, in no hurry to be anywhere, like waves splashing calmly over a beach.
Lyrics also play a remarkable role in CYHSY songs. Since Ounsworth’s voice is an instrument in and of itself, you find yourself listening only to the sounds he’s making rather than the words he’s singing. Still, after repeated listens you want to know what he is actually saying, which is not nothing. The songwriting takes advantage of the odd vocals and deals with vague love stories, political observations, and more awkward love. Ounsworth will latch on to a certain line and repeat it with such emotion that it becomes the most important thing he has ever had to say in his life. The line is either so profound, so casual, or both at the same time, that it really is the most important thing ever. And don’t worry; you will find yourself singing––or wailing––along.
The songs on Some Loud Thunder do take a bit longer to wrap yourself around than those of the first album, and not every single song is one of the best songs you’ve ever heard, as is the case with the debut. However, once you’re wrapped up in and familiar with Thunder, you find that it is the perfect follow-up album to the perfect album. After all, you wouldn’t want it to be better than that brightly packaged album you first discovered while browsing concert calendars online, eavesdropping on the record store’s brutally hip clientele or rocking out in the busy bright sunset last summer with some of your best friends, would you?

-February 3th, 2007