Album Review: Local Natives - Hummingbird

With their 2010 debut Gorilla Manor, Local Natives arrived on the scene with a stunning level of clarity and sophistication. The indie world was starving for three-part harmonies during the hiatus between Fleet Foxes' records, and Local Natives not only filled the gap, but their casually brilliant knack of hitting the sweet spots during storms of blustery tension and pulsing Afro rhythms caught folks off guard. It was an exceptionally strong first release, and the anticipation for a follow up has been growing since.

Hummingbird comes after a period of unrest for the Californian band. Uprooting from the west coast, they recorded different aspects in Montreal and Brooklyn – two very different (very cold) cities – and under different circumstances. Relationships were strained and personal problems took their toll, making this new album a lot more bruised than Gorilla Manor.

Sombre tones and dense cinematic passages dominate the record, with trademark harmonies often stripped away, leaving Taylor Rice in a vulnerable position out front doing the heavy lifting on some beautifully poignant moments. There's restraint here, a heavy inward reflection that curtails the giddy abandon they previously exhibited. Complex rhythms are sacrificed for grace and poise during emotional highs that are stretched out and maintained through discipline and calm.

This doesn't mean it's a quiet album. There are moments on Hummingbird where the songs build to crescendos the first only dreamed of (Black Spot really swings for the fence). There's resonance and pathos in their songwriting that fills up the crevices in your head and heart, and weighs you down with a sweet sort of lead in your belly that feels both rare and important somehow. This is a fantastic second effort.