Death Cab For Cutie

Track	Album
President Of What	Something About Airplanes
I Was A Kaleidoscope	The Photo Album
The New Year	Transatlanticism
The Sound Of Settling	Transatlanticism
I Will Follow You Into The Dark	Plans
Your Heart Is An Empty Room	Plans
Cath …	Narrow Stairs
Your New Twin Sized Bed	Narrow Stairs
You Are A Tourist	Codes And Keys
The Ghosts Of Beverly Drive	Kintsugi

Death Cab For Cutie 2022 (l-r) Jason McGerr (drums), Nick Harmer (bass), Ben Gibbard (vocals/guitar), Zac Rae (keyboards/guitar), Dave Depper (guitar/keyboards) – Atlantic Records press image – credit Jimmy Fontaine

By way of full disclosure, I should note that I’m probably about 15 years too old for Death Cab For Cutie’s sweet spot. Ben Gibbard and his band started releasing their brand of angsty indie rock, perfect for awkward teenage boys, in the late 90s, by which time I was just turning the corner on 30. The band captured a vibe that The Cure had mastered a half-generation earlier, updated to incorporate more recent indie influences like Pavement and Built to Spill. But over the subsequent decades, their music has grown increasingly sophisticated and mature, the sort of thing any lover of guitar-based indie rock can enjoy without having to feign being a moody teen hanging in his room after school.

The band’s unfortunate name (derived from a Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band song with which the band’s music seems to have pretty much nothing in common) likely drives aways some segment of the listening population who would certainly enjoy their alt.rock radio-friendly sound. But don’t be deterred; there’s a lot to love in their approaching-30-year history.

The first Death Cab release, 1997’s You Can Play These Songs With Chords, was essentially a Gibbard solo demo tape, pretty lo-fi, though a few tracks, like Pictures In An Exhibition and the Built To Spill-indebted President Of What, already showed some respectable songwriting chops. Gibbard then put together a band – most notably multi-instrumentalist Chris Walla, who would take on a sizable role in the band’s steadily-improving studio production – and released a proper debut, 1999’s Something About Airplanes. A few of the demo tracks were reworked, given a bit more polish, though still sounding somewhat home-brewed. The revamped President Of What offers a good indication of their early sound, traces of introspective emo and intricate math rock but still surprisingly catchy.

The 2000 follow-up, We Have The Facts And We’re Voting Yes, didn’t change things up much, retaining the modest production values. Its best numbers, like Company Calls, were deftly-written indie rockers but probably still a little too rhythmically complex and somber for broad appeal. The following year’s The Photo Album completed a trilogy of sorts, with few major changes from Airplanes or Facts, though standout track I Was a Kaleidoscope, while still somewhat jagged, suggested a modestly more poppy sound.

The big pivot came on 2003’s Transatlanticism. Walla’s production took a bold stride forward, though the real change was a significant improvement in songwriting. Maybe it was just the vocals being clearer in the mix, but suddenly if felt like Gibbard was deliberately writing for a bigger audience, with broad, alt.rock radio-friendly songs. Album opener The New Year feels like a statement of purpose, arena-ready volume and incredibly confident presentation, the opening line “So this is the New Year, and I don’t feel any different” coming across like Roger Daltrey’s grandkids proclaiming “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” Meanwhile, with The Sound Of Settling, Gibbard finally crafted the sort of sing-along pop chorus well-suited to take the band out of the indie shadows.

The artistic triumph of Transatlanticism coincided with a major shift in the band’s profile. They were the favorite band of a character on The O.C. tv series (the lovable nerd, of course), giving them some pop culture cred; meanwhile, Gibbard’s electronica side project, The Postal Service, scored a surprise hit with their 2003 release Give Up. Suddenly, the band with the silly name felt primed for the mainstream.

With their newfound commercial and critical success, the band scored a major label deal. You can hear the enhanced budget all over 2005’s Plans, though the studio slickness didn’t detract from the material. Once again, Gibbard continued to up his songwriting game – it’s arguably an even stronger, more consistent album than its predecessor – and the booming production adds some muscle to the tracks. The album’s first single, Soul Meets Body, is powerful, as is the infectious Crooked Teeth, though I personally prefer some of the more modest tracks. Your Heart Is An Open Room is a gentle, chiming track reminiscent of U2 in their prime, the ringing guitars a nice counterpoint to the bittersweet lyrics. Even more wrenching is the quiet, solo acoustic I Will Follow You Into The Dark. Some might find the lyrics about eternal love surviving death a little maudlin, but Gibbard mitigates the cheese factor with some clever, emotionally rich couplets.

The band wrapped up an outstanding three-album run with 2008’s Narrow Stairs, another tour de force where Gibbard’s songwriting and Walla’s production resulted in an emotionally harrowing yet sonically rich blend. As with the predecessor, the album had a stunning single in I Will Possess Your Heart, a lengthy epic (on album, edited for the single) which matched its somewhat creepy romantic obsession with, again, some U2-reminiscent chiming guitars. Even better is Cath, the sad lament of a bride making a very bad decision, the despair again elevated by some riveting music. And as with Plans, I’m a sucker for the quiet ballad here, Your New Twin Sized Bed bathing the loneliness of single life in some pretty guitar jangle.

Incidentally, while I’m focusing my 10 picks on the band’s albums, Death Cab have also released a number of quality EPs over the years, comprised of outtakes, demos, cover songs, and other ephemera. And while I didn’t include it on the list, Little Bribes – from 2009’s Open Door EP, mostly Narrow Stairs extras – is a fun little trifle, a lyrically clever ode to casino living which showcases Gibbard’s less serious side.

It was tough to match the arc of Transatlanticism through Narrow Stairs. Still, 2011’s Codes And Keys is a perfectly solid album. It feels a little less immediate and organic than its predecessors, partially due to less prominent guitars and a more studio-creation vibe, but it had its share of standouts. Monday Morning and Underneath The Sycamore are right up there with the band’s best work, and the dense, colorful You Are A Tourist in particular uses the band’s studio mastery to their advantage.

I’ll concede that, as with many bands who endure for several decades, I’ve spent less time with their more recent work. They continue to release interesting music – The Ghosts Of Beverly Drive off 2015’s Kintsugi is one fine example, though I could’ve just as easily suggested Gold Rush (from 2018’s Thank You For Today) or Asphalt Meadows (the title track from 2022’s most recent record) – but these aren’t necessarily making the same impact as their earlier work. That said, Death Cab continues to be a fantastic touring band, and put on one of the better concerts I’ve seen in recent years (where the newer material shines in a way it doesn’t always on record).

Beyond their core LP discography, there are other related works worth checking out. Gibbard has released some fine work as a solo artist, including a faithful tribute to Teenage Fanclub’s Bandwagonesque album in 2017; 2012’s Former Lives in particular fits in well alongside the band’s discography. Walla, who left the band after Kintsugi, released the solo Field Manual in 2008, and while he’s not at Gibbard’s level, the songs are pretty good. And, of course, there’s the afore-referenced record from The Postal Service, Gibbard’s lyrics and vocals providing surprising warmth to the underlying electronic music.