It’s no secret that Cold War Kids has been slowly declining into oblivion…did you even know they were putting out a record this year? To my surprise, I pressed play on a brand spankin’ new record from the California indie rockers, Hold My Home last week. While I knew fair and well that we are years past the off-kilter energies of the Robbers & Cowards days, what I found on Hold My Home left me bored and disappointed. Side-stepping the role of “whiney old fan wishing for the glory days,” it can’t be ignored that CWK seems to have lost its edge. Trading their smashed piano keys for incessant stomping…the new found dance rhythms that began on “Miracle Mile” last year are taking center stage this time around. Hold My Home left me wishing that CWK would come up for air and break up this monotony, most of this record fell flat, and is mostly forgettable. 

If last week’s show at The Sinclair is any indication, it seems like there’s a big shift happening in the CWK audience. Those who were drawn in by the bluesy days of “Saint John” or the eccentricity of “Every Valley Is Not A Lake” are drifting away to be replaced by a more casual listener and the hand-clap-sing-a-long lover. The shift doesn’t seem like it’s going to be a problem for CWK as their gig sold out almost immediately. Instead it’s just a noticeable change, nothing more, nothing less.  Hold My Home sounds like it’s desperately trying to sound bigger than it is, yearning to play that stadium and to preach its anthems. Who knows, perhaps this step towards easy digestibility and radio friendliness will help them get there.

Their latest single “All of This Could Be Yours” marked the beginning of a solidly grade B- night. Frontman Nate Willet and bassist Matt Maust’s bromance never ceases to fascinate. Maust’s ever-present urge to hover, nuzzle, or otherwise be close to Willet on top of the playful butt kicks made for a precious and laughable sight. Despite my harshness towards the new material, CWK is still a group of five talented musicians who sure as hell know how to play. New tracks like “First” roused the room into unified sways that didn’t seem to be bothered by the less than inspired lyrics as Willet sang “first you get hurt, then you get sorry.” The crowd oo’d and ah’d at the album’s closing sensual track “Hear My Baby Call” and loved crooning along. Punctuated with longstanding favorites including “Audience” and “Hang Me Up To Dry” – even the old material didn’t quite pack the same punch as it used to. The set was perfectly respectable and enjoyable way to spend an evening, but nothing to write home about. Though credit is due to multiinstrumentalist Matt Schwartz who managed to make the tambourine a violent instrument with all of his fervor.

Thankfully the album’s  ballad “Harold Bloom” is a glimmer of hope for the future. This silver lining shined even brighter in person and saved the set from it’s tiring monotony. On the ballad, Willet has found his soulful-jailbird self once more, this time singing about restoring faith, taking risks, and is an unexpected burst of inspired material. As the night’s encore, “Harold Bloom” restored some faith and I’ll hold on for a little longer. The real question is, who will still be patiently around to see what’s next?