The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Arts Wednesday, September 28, 2016 — 5A Every once in awhile, a band will release an album whose cover art is more than impressive. Rather than simply putting a pretty picture to a collection of songs, it profoundly influences the listening experience. Perhaps it invites, intrigues or just mystifies. In the best of cases, it evokes an emotional response from the listener before the music even starts. Whatever the exact case may be, Return to Love is one of those albums. Illustrated in immensely satisfying detail and contained by a thick white border, the cover’s naturescape is a crucial, almost necessary introduction to the album. Invoking nature and, by extension, solitude, it primes the listener for an experience centered on self-discovery. At the same time, the pure whiteness that surrounds this image indicates a crisp, aesthetically intelligent quality, setting a standard that the music itself surely matches. On Return to Love, LVL UP’s third studio album and first for Sub Pop, the four- piece outfit finds a highly rewarding medium between fuzz-infused punk bombast and lo-fi subtlety. After meeting at SUNY Purchase in New York, Mike Caridi, Dave Benton and Nick Corbo joined forces as LVL UP and introduced themselves to the world on 2011’s quietly released Space Brothers, an album comprised almost entirely of quick in-and-out jams — its 13 tracks clock in at just over 23 minutes total. Drummer Greg Rutkin joined them on tour — he’s now a permanent fixture in the band — though he doesn’t write any of the material. The other three split song-writing responsibilities roughly evenly, which is surprising given the generally cohesive nature of their work together. Now, following 2014’s breakthrough Hoodwink’d, Return to Love finds LVL UP crafting the most fleshed out, lyrically complex material they’ve released to date. Opening on single “Hidden Driver,” the influence of ’90s fuzz-folk is immediately apparent; one almost expects Jeff Mangum to jump in with a nasally “two-headed boy” after the opening chords. LVL UP’s lyrics are also just as inscrutable as Mangum’s always were. For a brief taste: “Hidden driver / forming shape inside my chest / omnipotent in the way that it arrests / every sense and every lesson.” The exact meaning of these opening lines doesn’t ever become particularly clear, but the song finds the band grappling with the idea of god — God? — and the biblical Fall. While fuzz permeates the album, some tracks are also characterized by touches of synthesizer. An absolute master class on restraint, the playful synth line that comes in at the two-minute mark (and only appears twice) on “She Sustains Us” is a testament to LVL UP’s arguably newfound maturity. This synth in particular, as well as other artificial sounds that crop up here and there — the sample that opens the track, for example — also add an exciting, almost genre-defying dimension to the band’s overall vibe. Despite all of the change or deviation from previous direction that characterizes Return to Love, longtime fans need not be in dismay! Fuzz permeates, but refuses to dominate, and tracks like “Cut from the Vine” find more of the clean, singular guitar melodies that largely defined their previous releases. What’s more, the band members’ voices haven’t changed a bit. Still the perfect complement for their guitar-driven brand of quasi- punk, their voices are never particularly urgent, and remain constant while the guitars set the emotional tone. Bordering on monotone, LVL UP’s laid-back, gently lilting vocals bring a casual quality to an album whose thematic content could be considered anything but. Here, LVL UP confront the idea of a higher being on “Hidden Driver” and condemn someone who has recently betrayed a friend to “grow old and never find love.” In addition to covering all of the usual bases of indie lo-fi alt-rock, the band has widened their focus, singing beyond just their own distinctly personal experiences. They continue to embrace individuality, but have contextualized it with the knowledge of a much greater, much more significant and unpredictable unknown. The idea of a singular, omnipotent deity appears not only on “Hidden Driver”—see “Naked in the River with the Creator” and “Cut from the Vine — and could reflect the instability ubiquitous in recent years for the four New Yorkers. In interviews, they have said that they decided they would be going their separate ways if things didn’t come together. Thankfully, signing to Sub Pop seems to have had more of a humbling effect than an ego-inflating one. In small print — at the bottom of the aforementioned album cover, beneath the river, the mountains and the entirety of the lush landscape — are two words: “Thank you.” SUP POP This looks like every all male indie band we’ve reviewed in the last five years. Four member indie band LVL UP ‘Returns to Love’ on third album ‘Returns’ finds itself between fuzz-infused punk and lo-fi subtley SEAN LANG Daily Arts Writer FOCUS FEATURES “As you can see here, we’re very lost.” Completionism: the act of consuming all works by an artist, film director or musician. Here is a completionist’s confession: I have refrained from watching films I knew would be good because I hadn’t watched their directors’ previous films. The same is true for albums and bands. I have, conversely, watched countless films I was 99 percent sure would be terrible beforehand (and those predictions were mostly right). I suppose my obsession with completion goes back to “Moonrise Kingdom,” the 2012 film by Wes Anderson, which was the movie that got me into movies. When I was younger, my form of rebellion against my parents was to reject their offers to watch movies with them in theaters or on home video. Unfortunately for me, my mother studied film in college, so her film literacy and taste have struck me as superlatively impressive since I developed an interest in film. In other words, I missed out. But when I saw a trailer for “Moonrise Kingdom,” a twee love story between two young troubled teenagers on a New England island in the summer of 1965, my interest in film blossomed. I never acted on the desire — the demands of my high school debate schedule proved to be too much of an obstacle — but “Moonrise Kingdom” remained in the back of my mind, waiting to be serviced. About a year later, in my senior year of high school, the film started appearing on television and I recorded it. Upon watching that fateful recording, I understood like never before how films could be so transforming. As soon as the film finished, I scoured the internet for all of Wes Anderson’s other films. For a few days before first semester finals, I locked myself in my room and watched all his works — “Rushmore” and “Fantastic Mr. Fox” made particular impressions on me — all while remaining keenly aware that a new film of his, “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” was due to be released in a few short months. I became obsessed. That directorial deep dive has never left me. In the years since, captivated by a singular film and determined to watch the director’s remaining filmography, I have watched the works of Steven Spielberg, Noah Baumbach, the Coen Brothers, Terrence Malick, Woody Allen and countless others. There’s a certain joy in truly knowing a director. Freed from the blind spots of one’s neophyte friends, the completionist can trace the styles, subjects and collaborators of directors from small, hobbled-together debut to peak artistic craft (note: usually, but certainly not always, around the third or fourth film), to late- period gem. There are, of course, short- comings. Not all films by a director — even some of the best directors — are good. There’s a lot of suffering in dedication. But those who find themselves in a deep dive can find some- thing to love in any film by a director to whom they commit themselves. I don’t particularly love “The Darjeeling Limited,” a mediocre film by Wes Anderson, but its style adds to the broader tapestry of Anderson’s twee works and his oeuvre would probably be worse without it. And I suppose it starts ear- lier: my first art love was archi- tecture and it still captivates me today. Growing up in the envi- rons of Chicago, an architec- tural mecca, I was exposed to countless works by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd Wright. A life goal of mine is to see every Frank Lloyd Wright building ever built (and still in existence). I’ve adapted the deep dive to music, too. Over the summer, my boss, in a company meeting, referenced Neil Young, and then looked at me and asked, in an apparent slight to my age, “Do you even know who Neil Young is?” I do in fact know who Neil Young is, but I couldn’t name any songs by him or Buffalo Spring- field. As much as I claim to love the rock ‘n’ roll of the 1960s and 1970s, I’m clearly missing many key names. I decided to listen to the discographies of all the art- ists inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I started in June with Chuck Berry, moved into James Brown and now I’m working through Ray Charles. It’s taking forever: three artists over four months. And yet, it’s been fruitful. These are legends, individu- als whose work changed music forever. Art is a cyclical phe- nomenon of copying, inspira- tion and innovation. We owe it to ourselves to experience the enlightenment of discovery. The best place to start is with the masters. A completionist’s story: an artistic confession DANIEL HENSEL Daily Arts Writer Starting with the complete works of Wes Anderson, one writer learns not all works by great artists are great B+ Return to Love LVL UP Sup Pop PALADIN “How does my breath smell?” Movies about the elderly and teenagers are hard to get right. When they are successful, however, it feels even more rewarding. With elders, there are inevitable biases that explain why movies starring older actors (besides Michael Caine, Meryl Streep or Morgan Freeman) are less common. Essentially, viewers would rather watch young, beautiful actors in roles that don’t remind us of our impending death (or inevitable wrinkles). Jerry Lewis attempts to negate this with his performance in “Max Rose.” Sadly, any producer who sees the movie will be far WILL STEWART For the Daily Jerry Lewis doesn’t defend his icon status in 2013’s bland ‘Max Rose’ After premiering at Cannes, the film finally receives wide release from eager to finance an elderly- focused movie anytime soon. Jerry Lewis’s (“The Nutty Professor”) career spans over half a century. From his work in the ’50s with Dean Martin to his philanthropy, Lewis has been one of the most prolific comedians. Today — although few 20-something year olds are fans — his name is still relevant. “Max Rose”, written and directed by Daniel Noah (“A Girl Who Walks Home at Night”), stars Lewis as the titular character, a 90-year-old widower struggling through day- to-day life. Lewis ventures away from comedy to more serious territory here, and his fans will be disappointed by the result. The movie premiered at Cannes in 2013, though it only recently gained wide distribution. What happened during these three years in between is unknown; unfortunately, “Max Rose” should have never made it past Cannes. The movie begins with a montage of sentimental flashbacks of Max’s recently deceased wife that’s meant to tug at the viewer’s heartstrings, similar to the opening sequence of Pixar’s “Up.” However, unlike “Up,” “Max Rose” fails to come even close to as heartbreaking. His granddaughter Annie, lackadaisically played by Kerry Bishé (“Argo”), takes care of Max despite his stubbornness. The movie revolves around Lewis trying to construe clues of his wife’s infidelity 50 years ago. This plotline feels meaningless and does nothing to deepen the love Max Rose felt for his wife. Rather, viewers spend the entire time wondering why he even cares about this past scandal since his wife has just died. The performances in “Max Rose” are the most painful feature. Lewis tries to express Max’s depression and mourning, but it never feels believable. The dialogue only fuels the poor acting; every sentence feels forced and unnatural, and every statement is overly dramatic, as if it were a part of a speech. His son, Christopher (Kevin Pollak, “A Few Good Men”), is especially guilty of supplying the worst lines, with small talk that feels like something overheard on an awkward first date. His deliveries are so unrealistic that it’s always clear that he is, in fact, acting in front of a camera with a film crew behind him. “Max Rose” feels half-baked at best, almost like Noah failed to make a deadline in its production. Its plot is choppy and its acting feels like it was barely rehearsed. Even with fine tune-ups, it is unlikely that “Max Rose” would ever be a successful movie; it would take an entire overhaul. Max Rose, the character, lacks any redeeming qualities, so much so that I hope no one I know ages like him. The movie does nothing to comment on the pains of getting old and portrays elders as stubborn and unpleasant, characteristics that should not be the only takeaways. There is no authentic development between Max’s family, and his friendships feel unrealistic. If “Max Rose” was trying to increase empathy toward elders, it failed. “Max Rose” is nothing but a brief glitch in Lewis’s expansive career. As a comedian with a plethora of material, the movie will be quickly forgotten in his legacy. Considering that this could be one of Lewis’s last performances, viewers and fans will want to like it, but it isn’t worth pretending. Liking “Max Rose” only because Lewis is old is purposeless; fans will always be able to revisit their favorite material and enrich their lives with laughter. D “Max Rose” Michigan Theater Paladin There’s a certain joy in truly knowing a director. FILM NOTEBOOK ALBUM REVIEW FILM REVIEW