The Temper Trap - Sungazer
As it often does, life comes for us all. The dreams of being in a band, traveling the world, living out of a bus or van, and living that nomadic lifestyle can become a beautiful memory as that light burns out. For some, the flame never comes back, and that’s okay. Family, kids, new priorities enter the mix. Maybe the occasional show happens. For Melbourne’s The Temper Trap, those dreams are still there, but it took about a decade of rumination and experiencing life before their newest and fourth studio album, Sungazer, came into fruition. The title track itself was written by singer/guitarist Dougy Mandagi before he found out that he would be having a son, part eulogy for his past self and part declaration of who he was about to become. Sungazer traces the many frailties of the human condition over its forty-five-minute run time, and it’s a great reintroduction of the band to the public consciousness after a decade-long absence.
Some songs are broader stories, like “Into The Wild” or “Runaways”, with Mandagi creating characters in his mind and bringing those stories to life through the band’s pulsating indie rock sensibilities. One track, “Dystopia Radio”, is even a meditation on Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, which Mandagi had been reading at the time of writing the album. Others find the singer confronting his religious background (“Bird On A Wire”), telling the love story of his grandparents and how they saved each other (“Lifeline”), or reminding the band to stay true to themselves artistically even as they push forward and try new things (alt-rock opener “Lucky Dimes”) while remembering the good times (“Halfway”).
“Giving Up Air” can, in theory, be looked at as the spiritual successor to the band’s massive hit “Sweet Disposition”. It features the same delay-ridden plucked guitars and a soaring chorus. The difference, however, is in the lyrics; “Sweet Disposition” is about love, while “Giving Up Air” is about grief, written in the aftermath of the death of a family member. The dance-hall-anthem chorus juxtaposes the sadness within the words with Mandagi writing from the point of view of his mother.
Album closer “Kuru” finds Mandagi grasping for meaning, for something far greater than just being in a band on the road, night after night. It’s a story of an astronaut, drifting through the cosmos as the one person who will make contact with another intelligent lifeform. As he drifts further out into space, there’s a chance that no one will be out there, and he has to reconcile with this loneliness. It is one of the most beautiful, heart-aching songs I’ve heard in a long time, and an outstanding conclusion to the album.
Time be damned, The Temper Trap did it again.
