I don't get it?

When Domino Records signed an unknown band called Chief this year, the incident must have turned a few heads. In fact, it probably induced enough cases of whiplash on the barfly circuit to warrant a report from the NHS. Expectations certainly run high for a band admitted into the pantheon of the indie scene without a single previous release. And now with the arrival of their debut album Modern Rituals, the time has come to see if Domino’s gamble was a triumph of foresight or a momentary lapse of judgment.

The history of Chief is one of two parts with all four members raised on the sanguine shores of Orange County, California. However, it was only when brothers Danny & Michael Fujikawa relocated to New York that the seeds of the band began to blossom and take shape.

Returning to Los Angeles, their sound is a reflection of their past, combining the ethereal elements of West Coast folk with a despondency derived from the incessant nature of city life. Fujikawa’s tone reveals a mixture of nostalgia and ennui as songs evolve into explorations of romanticised landscapes, now relegated to mere memories of an idyllic past.
 

The band evidently understands the power of an all-encompassing hook. Their vocal harmonies build on the blueprints set down by Crosby, Stills & Nash, complimenting a song’s main melody with a hauntingly memorable motif. On the opening track “The Minute I Saw it”, the refrain accentuates the sense of listlessness embodied in the nomadic rhythm, leaving a lasting imprint on the listener even as the music subsides.

The band’s brief ventures into country territory add an alluring set of colours to an erstwhile sombre palette. The rolling guitar riff on “Breaking Walls” injects a sense of vitality into Fujikawa’s slow-burning lilt, while the twang of a telecaster on “Summer’s Day” redirects the song towards sunnier shores.

There is also a hypnotic quality to certain songs in this collection. “Stealing” situates you in the centre of a sonorous spiral with each instrument adding an extra layer to the cycle. The mesmeric two note drone of the rhythm guitar is paralysing in its effect, placing us at the core of their endless bacchanal.
 

“In the Valley” encapsulates the very experience of wandering through pastoral settings, creating an atmosphere that borders on the sublime. In these moments, they step out of the shadows cast by their contemporaries and carve out a niche that is their own.

It can be difficult to refrain from playing ‘spot the influence’ at times. “You Tell Me” recreates the expansive ambience of My Morning Jacket with a vocal refrain that seems strangely reminiscent of Leona Lewis’ “Bleeding Love”. Similarly, the lethargic lead riff of “This Land” bears more than a passing resemblance to the Stone Roses’ iconic “Waterfall”. But in this postmodern era, commodities are almost always subject to a perpetual recycling of the old and the new. And since when did a lack of originality prevent an indie band from attaining mainstream success?

In a market saturated by one-dimensional bands, Chief uses their bi-coastal characteristics to their advantage. Their sound successfully amalgamates the spaced out melodies of the west coast with a metropolitan melancholia lifted straight from the labyrinthine alleys of New York City. And while Modern Rituals certainly does not reinvent the wheel, it provides a convincing argument that this old vehicle still has a little life left in it.

John Ryan