Modern Vampires of the City | Album Review

Ezra Koenig walked into an unassuming Dunkin Donuts on the corner of 4th and Atlantic, a pit stop on the way to a recording session for Vampire Weekend. The pressure to deliver his next work was building, following up on a debut that launched the faux-Ivy band to indie stardom. In line for an iced coffee, the rock star facade cracking, a seated Jamaican man called out to Koenig, “You take your time, Young Lion.”

Vampire Weekend had done everything but take their time, releasing their self-titled debut and sophomore Contra within a few short years since bursting onto the indie scene. Challenged again to reinvent the wheel with a new record, the Columbia grads probed for a sound to close out a quintessential trilogy of records. Their answer came in Modern Vampires of the City – the definitive indie rock album, that reached its ten year anniversary just last May.

just had a special moment with an older rasta at Dunkin Donuts. he called me "lion" and imparted some sage wisdom.

— Ezra Koenig (@arzE) June 12, 2009

The preppy pastels that colored Vampire Weekend’s first two albums were shelved for the black, somber, and foreboding tone of LP3. Evident in the first marching piano chords of “Obvious Bicycle” – Vampire Weekend went sadder than ever before. Koenig painted a depressing portrait of a man, working forever and for nothing, encouraged to give up. This world will never give back to you, just spare yourself the effort, the pain.

“Unbelievers” takes on a similar sentiment, Koenig wishing for companionship in a cold, intolerant world. Whether that acceptance comes in religious or romantic concern is unclear, as he wrestles with a Seinfeld-esque conundrum of converting to Christianity to get laid.

The band then goes old school on “Step” by sampling the refrain, “Every time I see you in the world, you always step to my girl,” from a 90’s Souls of Mischief track, mixed in with sparking a banjo and synth. The sample frames a common dispute amongst music listeners as Koenig beefs with California posers over the size and depth of their music collections. Their girls are fake communists, his girl, “entombed within boombox and Walkman,” is music itself – his obsession, his creation.

“Diane Young” forms a thinly veiled pun, Koenig racing against an ex-love, scorching towards a frantic, premature demise – dying young.

He then pursues a taken woman amongst the sweeping organ of “Don’t Lie” – begging her to break it off with her man in the face of passing time, knowing he’ll end up out in the cold at the end of the affair, despite their youthful vigor.

“Hannah Hunt” depicts a tragic breakup, moving across the country in hopes of salvaging something, making all the wrong choices in the process. Koenig is surrounded by a lamenting wail, building into an explosive finale – the peak of the entire Vampire Weekend discography.

Pulsing drum beats sound to the footsteps down that mountain towards “Everlasting Arms” – another breakup anthem fit with a heavenly guitar riff following the first chorus.

“Finger Back” introduces a recurring motif in Koenig’s writing amidst “California English” like instrumentals – screaming, “I don’t wanna live like this, but I don’t wanna die!” in the echoing breakdown.

“Worship You” describes Koenig’s religious manifesto, taking aim at God for his weighty demands of his faithful. In turn, “Ya Hey” deepens the rift between Koenig and his God – although omnipresent and otherworldly, he turns a blind eye to the horrors faced by his people, hiding behind a burning bush, in genocide, in ruin. The song’s title, a homophone for the Jewish God and a play on Outkast’s biggest hit, names that invisible lurker, Koenig pointing straight at the being who abandoned us, scornfully turning away from the demands of faith.

“Hudson” captures the album’s dark tone best – opening with images of rising waters spreading to claim more souls to the deep. As time passes, the world around Koenig changes – facing mutiny he holds true to his beliefs, despite the looming presence of death.

Rostam sings the closing track of “Young Lion” – pulling from Koenig’s experience at that Dunkin Donuts. A simple piano line plays through the reserved track, repeating the single line, “You take your time, young lion.” A warning, but one from a place of healing. You can’t live at the speeds this band was pushing through their first three records without burning up.

In the ten years since Modern Vampires of the City, Rostam left the band, and the remaining members released 2019’s comeback Father of the Bride. Now five years since then, Vampire Weekend’s fifth studio album is looming over us – teased across a series of newsletters and confirmed with the band’s upcoming festival headliner spots. On February 5th, the band updated their website and Instagram profile pic with new imagery, and shared the acronym revealing their forthcoming album title – OGWAU.