DESCRIPTION:
Band: Guther.
Album: I Know You Know.
Song: Complaint.
Year: 2003


I've never quite understood exactly what "twee" music was; it seemed like just another arbitrary genre subdivider in the record bin of music journalism, probably not deserving of too much contemplation. But now I'm holding a copy of a CD by Guther, slick and shiny and waiting for the trash can, and I think I might just understand. And I'm hoping that I Know You Know is just one end of the no doubt vast spectrum of "twee" music-- the half-assed-attempt-to-sound-like-Belle-and-Sebastian-without- actually-being-very-good end.

Aside from constructing a vapid time trap, languishing in the blue-tinged world of The Virgin Suicides, where cute teen actors are replaced by sour-faced indie kids with moptops and sweatbanded wrists, Guther seem to have spent their time perfecting just one song. And instead of filling up their notebooks with extra material-- just in case that one perfect tune isn't really as perfect as they'd hoped-- they decide to mix 9 variations on it and call it an album. If their intent is for I Know You Know to function as the shopping soundtrack for The Gap or Buckle, or that flagship of trust-fund suburban style Abercrombie and Fitch, then I can't talk shit, because that mission has been accomplished. You could browse the sale racks for pre-ripped cargo shorts and stressed AE t-shirts till your knees gave out and think you were listening to track one, "The Other Day" the entire time. There is so little variation in mood and tempo from song to song, you wonder why masterer Stefan Betke inserted the 2 seconds of silence between "Taglieben" and the equally wispy "Trouble You Cause".

Coy and passive, with some jangly electric acoustic guitar and a smattering of G4 drums, I suppose this fits in simultaneously with the "twee" tag and the Morr Music ethos, but it's just fucking boring. The song titles contain more pronouns than you can possibly imagine ("You", "What She Felt", "We Walk"-- get the picture?), and the subject matter-- girls and boys in love/hate admiration-- has passed through the digestive system of so many like-minded (and much better) bands that the familiar taste is really starting to overpower the packaging. Maybe for the comatose or half-conscious this isn't really a problem; when you're in the mood for your music to just maintain that mood, and the components aren't of great importance, an album like I Know You Know might not be so offensive. Julia Guther's voice does slip nicely into the haut couture of the music, so whatever Guther is trying to pull off, they've done some homework. But what Morr Music would have us call a "summer record" would be better described as beige wallpaper: nondescript, and easily ignored. And this from the people who brought you Lali Puna and Mum.

Julia Guther and Berend Intelmann think they've stumbled on a frequency that vibrates your heartstrings, and they ain't turning the dial anytime soon. Their timid vulnerability and doe-eyed sensitivity positively beg for a Louisville Slugger to the jaw: I Know You Know is less a collection of indie-vidual folktronica tunes than one long, self-absorbed sulk-fest on a big pink canopy bed, cigarettes stashed behind the dresser, vintage jeans strewn across the carpet, locked in the baroque mansion of The Royal Tenenbaums.