Vampire Weekend can’t be classified


Contributing Reporter 

Trying to classify Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut is pointless. Any and all attempts to do so will be in vain, and laughably so. 

It is the band’s astonishing ability to fuse a myriad of styles and genres that allows them to successfully thwart every musical convention that is recognized today. 

This seems to be the only way to survive in the contemporary music industry, for to be unoriginal is to become obsolete before a first single is released. Luckily for them, Vampire Weekend hemorrhages originality. 

Anyone who knows Regina Spektor’s music is familiar with the idea of amalgamating punk and classical music, and the satisfaction the finished product can bring when it is done well. 

Vampire Weekend manages to accomplish the same task, but in a different way. Strings are showcased rather than Spektor’s heralded piano, and punk is far from the only genre that is mixed in. 

The highlight on the album is “M79,” a staggering track that epitomizes diversity by featuring highlights of classical instrumentation paired with a reggae beat and punk vocals. 

“I Stand Corrected” is impressive in that it is a slower song, which, for many young bands, can be a difficult task to accomplish. The music swirls around vocalist Ezra Koenig, threatening to sweep him away. However, he stands his ground and maintains his reserve throughout. 

“One (Blake’s Got A New Face)” is another standout track that employs Spektor-esque antics to create musical interest; the band coughs, sniffs, and croons with vocal contortions, using their own voices as unusual instrumentation. 

The album is generally fun and colorful with more than a couple catchy tunes. But Vampire Weekend is not background music best experienced on a summer drive with the windows down and a pile of people in the backseat; its artistic merit demands your full attention, and will, no doubt, garner your most sincere respect. 

More than anything, it is a sensory album — it sparkles, it glows with warmth, it flits around the room, and it hits every tastebud on the musical pallet.