The Dears Photo: Aaron Seligman Benzos

Dance DJs and producers like Oakenfold or Diplo have done well turning old rock songs into new dance anthems—think of Oakenfold’s mix of U2’s “New Year’s Day”. But don’t expect rock acts to get left behind. “Acid” and other digital programs are finding their way into live sets. Many bands have decided to skip straight to the remix, adding programmed drum tracks to their tunes, turning what might have been an alt-rock anthems into a would-be club hits.

On better nights, this is the first step towards an inventive, offbeat new sound. But it’s one thing to program a drum machine and another entirely to make something new with common code. As we’ve learned time and time again from B-grade sci-fi films—Looker, S1M0NE—digital effects make a nice first impression, but often they just can’t stand up to good, old-fashioned human contact. The computer image of Rachel Roberts might look good, but you’re going to be savagely disappointed when you try to bed her.

Benzos is a perfect example. Their first album won’t be out until spring, but after seeing them jam to prerecorded tracks at the Mercury Lounge I have a pretty good idea of what it will sound like. The quintet wears its influences on its sleeve - they mentioned an undying love of U2 and Pink Floyd during an interview with Gothamist.com (http://www.gothamist.com/archives/2005/01/12/benzos_in.php). But under the expansive sound, populated by delay pedals and echo chambers—pure Meddle-era Floyd—the band lays a buzzing, energetic drum ‘n’ bass rhythm track, part human and part machine. Singers Mike Ortega and Christian Celaya offer a Thom Yorke and Bono mash-up, but they never step from behind the reverb to distinguish themselves with unique personality or striking vocal agility.

The band is still in an early period of its career, and it’s clear they’re still searching for their own sound. On “Glass Soul” and other songs, the members suffer from songwriting myopia. All five members play nonstop; with at least two guitars, pre-recorded synth effects, and both live and electronic drums tapping double-time throughout. No single element gets a chance to stand out. Rock shows are like operas or Greek tragedies; you need arias and solos alongside choruses.

Though the group has more musicians, The Dears, never sounded as crowded as Benzos. But then, they must know all about letting people stand out. Singer and frontman Murray A. Lightburn credits himself as having entirely “written and directed” their latest album No Cities Left. Lightburn’s theatrical, sweeping vocals recall Morrissey (who the band opened for in the past), but so-so solo Morrissey rather than the Moz who fronted the heavenly Smiths. The production values on No Cities Left seem a little much for an indie-rock album, and there is little grit.

The best moments are when Lightburn’s gift for orchestration shows through, introducing brass, strings, and flute to help sculpt jazzy trip-hop that sounds more like Supreme Beings of Leisure than a purist’s rock record.

Live, however, there are only the best moments. Lightburn’s carefully chosen band turns even the most lukewarm tracks on No Cities into crowd pleasing rock anthems, much in the same way that fellow Quebecers The Arcade Fire make up for a subdued album with a hyperactive live performance.

Lightburn also lets himself go, straying from the laconic tone he affects in the studio instead championing a unique voice with surprising range. The charged, feedback guitar solos that he whips out at choice moments seem utterly unlike the careful melodic lines he allowed on his record.

Morrissey, Arcade Fire, Supreme Beings… I can make all the comparisons I want, but none of them are quite right, and that’s the best thing about The Dears. They’ve moved past Benzos and other bands, still stuck creating mash-ups or remixes rather than songs, amalgams of their influences. Though I have to admit I might not like all of it, Lightburn has a created - or should I say “directed”? - a wholly original sound.

The image, however, seems a little less secure. The other band members all fit a narrow definition of rock musicians, the mutton-chopped rhythm section; the pretty, pouty, and bored-looking women tapping tambourines and singing back-up; only the hirsute, dark-skinned Lightburn stands out against the dismayingly whitewashed standards of indie-rock.

At first, I thought that perhaps with The Dears would let race be the elephant in the room (or as some Canadians say, the moose at the table). But in the video for “Lost in the Plot,” a song whose lyrics don’t overtly suggest race or any other sort of issue, a young, solitary, black boy wanders through a snowy landscape populated by white children until he finds Lightburn et al performing. He cracks a smile, and finally seems to belong.

I hesitate to make any broad pronouncement based on such slim evidence, but I wonder if Lightburn has some more serious undertones to his music than are immediately apparent. In the studio it might be easy to gloss over these heavier issues with a wash of keyboards and oblique love songs. Live, it’s much easier to get carried away and reveal something vital. The Dears have the potential for something bigger and more meaningful perhaps, if only the director could tolerate of a momentary detour from the script.