Pop rock problems are always on the horizon. We listeners are doomed to repeat whatever it is at the top of the charts, regurgitated until someone, finally, decides to stop. Listeners are fighting a losing battle against the charts and if Imagine Dragons had their way they would be there, permanently, at the top. Despite their prevalence as popular musicians it is difficult to pick any of their works out as unique or of interest. Music made for salon waiting rooms while you munch Biscoff and wait for a trim. And yet Loom does not get close even to that experience. Unsatisfying at the best of times and vaguely recognisable noise at best, Loom is a sickly beast burdened with the weight of its misused potential. As little as it may be, there is still scope for something here to work.
Opener Wake Up feels like the right sort of movement to make. An especially short but well-developed piece of pop joy. But the emptiness of it and the meandering sex at the heart of it is the slop expected of chart artists. Imagine Dragons is a loud and boisterous collection of musicians who have no sense of perspective or unique joy to their experiences. Weightless works which, while clocking in at just over a half hour in length, feel endless. Yet the slight flickers of alternative dance heard within are little victories for those holding onto the band and expecting different avenues of sound. More fool you, but there are slight marks of joy. Nice to Meet You undoes all of this. Whether it is the generic interplay of a back-and-forth chat between would-be lovers or the imagery expected of those end-of-summer “vibes,” as Imagine Dragons would no doubt label it, there is a stifled presentation to it all. Loom has a disregard for specifics which harms its place in the relatable, everyday heartbreaks.
Little joys like a neat bassline here or a decent flash of instrumental effort there is no joy when the bulk of this work is a lobotomy-like experience. Interjections from backing vocals and a repetitive lead from Dan Reynolds do nothing more than praise the weekend as a time of spiritual liberation, and yet their experiences are no different than those who are sapping the soul and fun from those holidays. Their directions through life and the angelic-like expectations of Eyes Closed feel more like the writing on the wall of a new build home where generic inspiration is a replacement for effective, heartfelt openness. But Imagine Dragons has always felt like the live, laugh, love of music. Each has a shallow, overused expectation to it, and it is not like Imagine Dragons are trying to break from this.
Slack lyrics, uneventful instrumentals and what you get is a project too fearful of the very experiences it wants to capitalise on. They try and hit out at the people pleasers on Take Me to the Beach and yet are the soundtrack for the very same, gym clobber-wearing, cheeky Nandos and a few bevvies on a Friday night people who have already overwhelmed the marketability of weekend thrills. Imagine Dragons is taking up space already overstocked with their sound. Sport social noise which, if from a smaller artist, would be the backing track of frat parties on a budget television programme documenting the thrills of boozy days with musicians labelled “rad”. Imagine Dragons are still the shallow waters not worth paddling in.
