Narrow Stairs is flawed. The song "Pity and Fear," for example, is the
spirit of spontaneity. The song's surging
momentum carries straight to the end with no carefully-conceived conclusion. Instead, the result sounds like a master tape cut
willy-nilly with scissors; before that, the volume spikes for no apparent
reason.
Producer and guitarist Christopher Walla said in an interview with The Vine, “The master plan for Narrow Stairs was to be as invisible and hands-off as a producer as I possibly could. I was really interested in seeing what would happen. When we started that record, we had been on tour for the better part of two years. All we could remember was being on stage and playing. So the whole idea was: what happens if we’re just on stage and we play, except we’re in the studio and we’re recording?” It was Death Cab’s Let It Be. Without Yoko.
Producer and guitarist Christopher Walla said in an interview with The Vine, “The master plan for Narrow Stairs was to be as invisible and hands-off as a producer as I possibly could. I was really interested in seeing what would happen. When we started that record, we had been on tour for the better part of two years. All we could remember was being on stage and playing. So the whole idea was: what happens if we’re just on stage and we play, except we’re in the studio and we’re recording?” It was Death Cab’s Let It Be. Without Yoko.
The imperfection is
what exemplifies Narrow Stairs. Its failures somehow make it more than perfect; it’s better
because it’s a 9. That’s Gatsby logic
there:
“Of
course she might have loved him, just for a minute, when they were first married – and loved me more even then, do you see?”
