Review by /u/hawkgate
Narrow Stairs isn’t my favorite Death Cab album (that honor goes to Transatlanticism). It isn’t even my second-favorite Death Cab album (We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes holds that title). But I’ll be damned if it isn’t an amazing album, loaded with solid songwriting front-to-back, and one that is seemingly underrated and overlooked by fans.
We begin with “Bixby Canyon Bridge”, and that song starts like your average Death Cab fare and reminiscent of the mellow tone of Plans. However, the fluttering reverb-filled guitars that hang in the background almost feel like a black cloud hanging over the track – the calm before the storm, if you will. You can’t help but feel like there’s something going on beneath the surface. And then suddenly, at the 1:40 mark, the track does a 180. The gentle atmosphere gives way to McGerr’s pounding drums. The guitars distort, as do Gibbard’s vocals. You realize as the song builds to its noisy, fuzzed-out climax that this is a very different Death Cab than the one on Plans. And then you’re out of the eye of the storm, as Gibbard calls out over heavy feedback. “Bixby Canyon Bridge” sets the tone for the rest of the album in spectacular fashion, upending all preconceived notions you had about the Plans follow-up. And though we’re out of the storm (for now), we are nowhere in the clear yet.
The second track of the album, aforementioned 8-minute Can jam “I Will Possess Your Heart” is essentially a stalker anthem, and you can definitely hear the krautrock influences coming through. Repetition is the key in setting the atmosphere for the first half of the track – Harmer’s million-dollar bassline moves along with McGerr’s steady drumming; the piano and guitar refrain popping up every so often; Walla’s guitars in the background providing texture and ambience. The instrumentation slowly builds and builds but never deviates from its course. The effect is hypnotic and can almost put you into a trance, and this repetition cleverly parallels the self-destructive and obsessive thoughts that can repeat in a stalker’s head. The almost five minutes of instrumentation comes to a pause when Gibbard finally enters, and his trademark boyish vocals can almost make him sound earnest when he says “How I wish you could see the potential / The potential of you and me / It’s like a book elegantly bound / But in a language that you can’t read just yet” (and especially how he whispers those last two words is downright creepy). Oh he’ll follow you into the dark alright, but this time I’m not so sure you’ll enjoy it.
For a song called “No Sunlight”, it sounds deceptively upbeat. It’s a song you can really tap your feet to as Gibbard croons “Of sunlight / Of sunlight” over plinky piano keys that kind of sound like an angelic harp. But of course, like the song before it, its lyrics paint a much more darker message, and the moment might pass you by when Gibbard proudly announces that “the optimist died inside of me”. I mean, holy shit. In terms of savagery, it’s definitely up there with “You’re a disgrace to the concept of family” and “You are beautiful but you don’t mean a thing to me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9Q2Ytdyf2Q)”. The juxtaposition of the upbeat instrumentation with the depressing lyrics can leave you feeling unsettled, and it echoes what The Mountain Goats also did with “Dance Music”
When “No Sunlight” ends it transitions seamlessly into “Cath…”, a song which sounds like it could’ve been pulled straight from The Photo Album (which is interesting to note as its UK 7-inch single featured a live version of “Styrofoam Plates” as its B-side). The track is explosive and instantaneous, its riffy guitars unmistakably Death Cab. What is also unmistakably Death Cab is Gibbard’s storytelling, painting a very thorough portrait of an uncertain wedding and the feelings associated with it, mixing in descriptive phrases (“But she can’t relax / With his hands on the small of her back”), the character’s personal thoughts (“And your heart was dying fast / And you didn’t know what to do”), and a couple of poignant metaphors to boot (“She holds a smile / Like someone would hold a crying child”).
For such a slow track, “Talking Bird” carries a monstrous amount of weight, most of it having to do with Gibbard’s lyrics and delivery. As the instrumentation plods along, Gibbard gives what is essentially a plea to the listener. You can almost picture him sitting by a window holding a birdcage with its door open, begging the bird to stay. It’s some of Gibbard’s most emotive deliveries on the album, and the way his voice shakes when he sings “It’s all here for you” makes you wish for the bird not to fly away too, even though it’s very clear from the lyrics that the character that Gibbard is portraying in this song is a possessive and manipulative one.
The “You Can Do Better Than Me” is a straight-up pity party – nay, a pity parade, complete with Jason McGerr’s marching band-esque drums and sleigh bells. It’s completely theatrical, over-the-top, and totally out of Death Cab’s character. You get the sense that it’s unnecessarily (almost inappropriately) grand, like it’s making a big deal about itself or putting on a stage show. It’s also barely two minutes long, but there’s a reason for that. As Nick Harmer explains in this interview:
NH: The sentiment of the song is kind of a thought that you have and it just kind of, once you have the thought, you’re done with it, and the song kind of captures that passing moment that I think that in some ways, whether you’ve had that exact thought, you’ve probably had– everyone’s had a version of that thought at some point in a relationship.
The spotlight is on Ben as we reach the climax, and when all of the instrumentation falls away (save for a lone piano), he delivers the final 2 lines and it truly feels like a punch in the gut – “Cause you can do better than me / But I can’t do better than you”. He repeats this again, hammering the point home, and we glide into “Grapevine Fires”.