TRAVELS IN WEIRDNESS: A STRANGER IN AMERICA

Ramblings of an Englishman living in the USA. Writings on baseball, US culture, music and more.

[travelsinweirdness]

Jeniferever - Silesia

Looking for a dose of Scandinavian snow-melting warmth for the summer? Jeniferever provide in spades.

When writing about music, descriptive words such as ‘epic’ and ‘grandiose’ are not to be used lightly, if at all. They’ve become something of throwaway terms recently, and it seems any band that has songs over 6 minutes is ‘epic’ and if they use a lot of reverb, well, just saddle them up with ‘grandiose’. It’s lazy writing (something of which I have been guilty, too many times) and takes a lot less effort than to try and actually be descriptive. However, this review is a look at what happens when a band steps away from these cheap expressions.

Whenever I pick up a copy of an album, I try to keep an open mind while listening, which can prove extremely difficult if you have any familiarity with that particular artist’s back catalogue. Even harder is when you review the bloody thing, comparisons keep popping up which is, admittedly, a handy reference point. Still, at least I try to keep an open mind, damn it. And there’s no better surprise than to have your expectations shattered into a million tiny, tiny fragments.

One of the nicest memories I have of the music of Sweden’s Jeniferever is escaping the blazing heat of the Tuscan sun. Cycling through the narrow streets and side-lanes of the old town in Lucca, different pathways extending like spindly veins from the central ampifeatro. Navigating this part of town took some practice; often enough I found myself ending up at the same spot two or three times. What struck me most about the pace of life in that part of the world – there was always thatsomething that makes you want to slow down, just take in the day. Perhaps the same impulse that forces excessive consumption of olive oil – I’m not sure. In any case, something caused me to slow down and open my ears. Returning to the house in the valley later that evening, I sat down in the coolness of the terrazzo and let music wash over me. It was Choose a Bright Morning, Jeniferever’s 2006 debut album.

Okay, so they were incredible – original (if that even means anything anymore) and gentle, for some of it, and magnificent – for most of it. Something about their new album, Silesia, is simply majestic. The band has pared down their sound considerably, straying a little from their comfort zone of atmospheric and relatively slow post-rock drenched indie, focusing instead on crafting what could almost be considered pop, in some circles. One of the main features on this album seems to be the use of keyboards as a central instrument – almost as an orchestral tool in some instances. Even the drum sound in the mix is dry, much less reverb-heavy and somewhat reminiscent of Ester Drang’s later work. Kristofer Jönson’s vocals, quiet, melodic and sweet are given centre stage here – whereas on the debut and even on the organic Spring Tides his voice lacked a certain definition, carved into a hollow in the song. This time around his voice is back-lit by the band; it is right at the top of the mix and it is illuminated by stunning performances all round, instrumentally. On ‘Dover’ he sings “We hold tight to the ghosts in the stories/we do everything that we can to keep them alive.” The song is about not letting go, or rather, treasuring those memories held dear, the chorus line “We hold tight to bits of the past/they keep the days from ageing that fast.”

There’s something sentimental about Jönson’s lyrics, a recurring theme ever-present that displays certain vulnerability that is wholly endearing.

Most impressive of all on the record is the exquisite ‘The Beat of Our Own Blood’, an absolute gem that should by all rights be a single, and a respectable one at that. Huge melodic guitar and keyboard lines weave around intricate drum lines, all lifted by the overdriven, muscular bass line that was instantly, like, ‘Wow, Adam Clayton gets around a bit.’ Jönson speaks of emptiness in familiar ways, “The clothes and accessories form a faint pattern of guilt on the floor.”

It’s nice to see that the Scandinavian talent spell hasn’t worn off. Jeniferever really pack a punch in this release, and much like the sun creeping slowly up the buildings, off of the paving tiles of that Lucchesi day – the illumination may only be for a short while, but the warmth remains.

[travelsinweirdness]

Charles the Osprey - Consider

A dynamic duo present an album interesting and eclectic, full of riffs and chops; something to get your talons into.

I have something of a love for instrumental bands; I can’t quite place my finger on why, but it makes me happy to hear two, three, four or more musicians just let loose and have fun, completely bypassing the need of a vocalist, sometimes accidentally and other times simply because they transcend that need. Like anyone else, my ears can take a good amount of vocal-free tunes but on occasion I have a yearning to hear the human voice on record, if only for a change of scenery. However, some albums are so out there that no amount of reason could possibly make me imagine them with singing. Charles the Osprey, a two-man outfit from Michigan, has produced precisely what I would deem to be an album that is just too batshit to even imagine vocals on top of. Having said that, for a band as tight as this, who cares? Consider is their first full-length effort, and one that doesn’t shy away from the ethos that sticking to a single formula within a single song is a bad idea. From the powerful and lithe drumming of Derek Lancioni, providing a solid backbone cocooned by the flowing guitar lines radiating from the nimble fingers of Rafael Ohli, they produce a rollicking racket that is hard to believe comes from two men alone. Citing their major influences as Don Caballero, Psyopus, Lamb of God and Bjork, just to name a few, it seems the duo comes from a strong pedigree upbringing of variety, that is, they wear their influences well without being obvious; it, at least in part, explains the eclectic, daring attitude put across on the twelve tracks offered here. The record kicks off with ‘Scimitar Children and their Rugs’, innocent enough, the relatively melodious tapped guitar backed with drums only slightly off-kilter. The band doesn’t stray too far beyond these constraints, and this could be considered one of their more straightforward songs. It is enjoyable to the last. It is not until the second track on the album, where the band start to loosen up and start introducing the spices of variety to the mix, turning up the heat in the process. From there, they don’t cease – throughout ‘Hornets Don’t Have to Feint’ things are most definitely notched way past eleven – not just in the volume sense, mind. The band leaps from math-rock in one moment, to metal the next, making a passing glance at indie rock on the way back to math. They continue in this manner before hitting an unusual moment in ‘Conversations with the Deacon, Vol. 1’, an acoustic track that offers some relief before the next, presumably heavy wave breaks. Other standout tracks on the album are ‘Alia Pompeii; The Temptress’, an approachable track that is laden with pleasant moments throughout, and ‘Lovecraft! Smile!’ – the guitar at the beginning of which is reminiscent of the arpeggios employed by Muse, strangely. Looking at other two-piece instrumental acts, Hella, for example, or perhaps even El Ten Eleven, I haven’t really seen this level of variety before, at least in terms of crossing genres. Normally I would be wary of a mishmash of styles such as this, but musical ability seems to allow the band to reign it in and make it work, sounding  impressive in their capable hands. CTO are a band that seem comfortable enough, not only as musicians but as music lovers to give a pat on the back and a nod to some of their favourite bands and genres, and somehow, it works.Consider is equal parts angular, cathartic and noisy, and by all accounts a decent album. So, when you’re looking for something energetic and instrumental to try, consider Charles the Osprey.

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The Album Leaf - A Chorus of Storytellers

Jimmy LaValle’s melodic, delicate solo work under The Album Leaf moniker has produced another decent, enjoyable listen.

San Diego’s Jimmy LaValle is no stranger to taking a formulaic approach to music; indeed, when he introduced the world to his solo material aside from his work with the instrumental post-rock group, Tristeza, it had a subdued melancholy that countered the brighter exuberance in the clean and spiraling inflections of his main project. This was a theme that ran through his debut, consistently reproduced with some success on his subsequent releases. Playing and recording under the name The Album Leaf, LaValle is riding the quieter end of the ‘post-rock’ wave, for lack of a better genre tag; by no means to be considered background music but dangerously close all the same. It is this choice of path that has created a clear divide between critics. Some are full of praise for the calm beauty that is laced throughout his work, and others have been harshly critical for the same reason, citing repetition in his signature melodious sound that they claim is rehashed and repackaged for each successive record he releases. Although his solo work somewhat betrays his roots in Tristeza, he also displays a penchant for a more brooding, atmosphere, strengthened by his musical prowess on many instruments, including drums, bass, keyboards, guitar, and of course, his vocal ability. His 2004 album, In a Safe Place, a title that suggests peace and stability, was largely recorded with members of the Icelandic quartet Sigur Rós in their own Iceland studio, Álafoss. The result was a meditative, gentle and expressive album, as was his 2006 effort, Into the Blue Again. Both albums display LaValle’s modus operandi, although the latter was more of a leap towards a pop-sensible sound. This year saw the release of his fifth album, A Chorus of Storytellers, continuing very much in the same vein as his earlier work. For the first time, LaValle used a live band to track the record, an approach that lends a more natural feel. The album itself is, in a word, grand. It kicks off with ‘Perro’ – a slow-building, sample heavy track that serves as an introduction, nothing more. It doesn’t lack substance, but in typical Album Leaf fashion is a good lead-in to the stronger tracks that lie beyond. One of these stronger pieces emerges in the form of ‘There Is a Wind’ – the first track that appears that opens with signature Rhodes piano, but blooms rather wonderfully into the full band at work. This is where LaValle’s pop instinct kicks in with its hook-laden chorus ‘There’s a wind behind everyone/Takes us through our lives/I wish we could have stayed/But this wind takes us away,” and the dynamics of subtle, creative drumming and understated instrumentation keeps the track from possibly blowing into ostentatious territory. Other standout tracks include the lovely ‘Within Dreams’, a song  with a slight fragility. It is a strangely organic affair, despite the spluttering electronic beats, and is somewhat reminiscent of Sigur Rós with an IDM backbone. The rich string section coursing throughout gives a nice melodic counterpart to the keyboard flourishes and sweeps. ‘Until The Last’ is another that employs the strings technique to some success, achieving an almost epic, deeply rich sound carried on the shoulders of the basic track itself. It can be equally risky to be a jack-of-all-trades or a master of one, and The Album Leaf is in the latter camp. Yes, Jimmy LaValle may have a formula; he may not stray far from that formula, but what compounds he delivers make for extremely enjoyable listening.

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Efterklang – Magic Chairs

The Copenhagen four-piece’s latest release is an exercise in restraint, but ultimately results in a somewhat plain album.

Scandinavia has long been associated with groundbreaking and influential acts, many of which have gone on to earn much critical and commercial acclaim. Something of an air of mystery surrounds these Nordic states; a haven of creativity nestled in a small-ish corner of the world. Look no further than ABBA, for example; by no means a manufactured act that set the mould for the pop groups of years to come – coming straight out of Stockholm to rule the charts for a decade, and leaving a resounding impression on the shape of popular music after their demise. Although they were perhaps the best known of the mass of talent that to this day continues to emerge from Northern Europe, a great deal of experimental leaders in their various musical fields hail from these lands – take Shining, the trailblazing Norwegian jazz-by-way-of-metal collective or the countless metal hordes that have broken out of Finland. Some attention, however, should be given to Denmark. Efterklang are one of the more interesting acts to have gained a foothold in today’s wide musical world. They do well to defy easy classification, and this remains one of the band’s strengths; genre-bending techniques and offbeat songwriting add to this ambiguity. Despite this, the most accurate possible label for their early work would be post-rock. Their debut album, Tripper, was bursting at the seams with stuttering electronic drum patterns, synth vibraphone and rich, dulcet string arrangements – all of this complemented by harmonious male/female vocals. It is an overpoweringly abounding sound that is almost too much. They drew back somewhat on their second effort, Parades, in which they retained some similar elements to their first. It is a wholly more rewarding and simple experience, though – playing with the idea of more acoustic arrangements. It is reminiscent of something you might hear as the soundtrack to a world of fairy-tales; innocent and pure, almost childlike. Seemingly never comfortable in one sound, the band have changed tack again for their latest release, Magic Chairs.They have left behind many of the hallmarks of their early work, and instead have developed a keen sense of negative space since their debut. Rather than an album packed full of textures, they never really give much away. Their new sound brings to mind what Califone might be if they were ever given a glossy, 4AD production and a more positive outlook. The lead track and first single, ‘Modern Drift’, is a cornucopia of soft, unbroken piano lines, clean guitars, strings and sparse, pounding drums – ‘I can keep my head inside/When the modern drift is all I have’, and the song could be considered as the group at the most pop-sounding they’ve ever been. However, although it is a lovely song, it doesn’t leave much of a mark. Ultimately, this is where the album itself falters. In its entirety, it is a very slow-moving, mono-textural work, and although some artists can pull this off very well, Efterklang are yet to reach that stage. There are moments when the album takes some interesting turns, however –  tracks such as ‘I Was Playing Drums’, where the overtly Califone-esque moments emerge, and ‘Raincoats’, which has something of a world music feel coursing through it: dry percussion, handclaps and African pipes. The quality of songwriting throughout is consistent, and there are no obviously weak moments to speak of, but when you’re expecting an album that should grip you from beginning to end, the experience is more like a soft hand on your shoulder, gentle and somewhat ineffectual. Ultimately, Efterklang have matured their sound a great deal since their formative years, but although Magic Chairs is decent, it isn’t outstanding. But that, of course, is the nature of growth – given time, and the nurturing of their sound, they will be capable of great things.

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Beach House – Teen Dream

The latest album from Beach House is a fine example of how true poignancy can, and should, be the greatest asset in a band’s repertoire.

If I cared to take a look back at myself four, maybe even three years ago, I was a musical  philistine. I was extremely close-minded, even

fanatically against listening to a hell of a lot of things, and I feel like I’m only just beginning to scratch the surface of what I missed out on. Sure, there were some unusual choices in my collection, but they were in the clear minority. I could chalk it up to simple ignorance, or maybe it was fear of change. Ultimately, it pays dividends to branch out as far as is possible, stretching the extra mile to discover something that could possibly change your perception of music as a whole, and how it relates to your own humanity – whether through emotional tie-lines or basking in it and warming your soul.

Despite a band with a name that brings up imagery of shading your face from the sun, brushing off sand and tearing off clothes to leap into the crashing surf, Beach House sound exactly like winter; undeniably chilled, crystalline melodies refracting like dull light through ice. When they released their eponymous debut album in 2006, they had plenty of room to grow – although the lo-fi sounds of their early work was, in a word, gorgeous, they hadn’t reached their zenith by a long shot. Through this and their second album, Devotion, they explored a sound akin to walking through a degraded and empty old home, unable to locate the stereo from which the sounds are sourced. Granted, Devotion was more imminent in its production, but it still kept the listener at a certain distance.

With Teen Dream, their third and latest release, the duo of Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand (interestingly enough, the niece of acclaimed film composer Michael Legrand) deliver a much more forthcoming effect. The band chose to record their first album for Sub Pop in a converted church, and the obvious atmosphere that permeates their sound brings it to a different level altogether. From the get-go the album is soaked in a dreamy resonance that might be in danger of being sterile, if it wasn’t for the masterful strokes of inspiration that make up these songs. ‘Zebra’, with its understated beats and fluid guitar line, escalates into a wash of cymbals. The result is a staggering introduction to the album that somehow remains minimalist, at least compared to some of the later tracks such as the lead single, ‘Norway’. The synthesiser that rides the verses of ‘Norway’ is unsettling, with its shifting pitch and Legrand’s vocals bubbling above it, just barely – and the song’s one-word chorus introduces a strange catchiness. Although Teen Dream is unquestionably beautiful, and its moments of grandeur are hardly few and far-between, there is a tendency to lose focus on the songs – not through a lack of immediacy but rather because the waves of sound wash over rather than break – there’s no crash, only gentle lapping at the shore. This is, in the big picture, a minor flaw; when songs like ‘Walk in the Park’ peak, luscious vocals pushing forth with ‘In a matter of time/it would slip from my mind/in a matter of time/in and out of my life’, this is where the true beauty of this album lies – simplicity.

This work of heart-aching splendour isn’t a mere collection of songs; it’s a living, breathing organism of pure, dreamlike sound. If Beach House haven’t hit their summit yet, they haven’t got far to climb.

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Ramona Falls - Intuit

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

There are few who truly embrace the spontaneity and spirit of experimentation that should be a large part of making a record. It seems that albums recently are perfectly tailored; fitted, edited beyond any recognition, and they simply become homogeneous, sterile works that seem to represent the direction the music business is taking. It’s all about the auto-tuned, pop-perfect vocals, the clean beats, the horribly synthesised instruments. It’s a false economy, cashing in on bad art. Thankfully, this is where artists like Brent Knopf step in.

As one-third of the musical collective Menomena, Knopf is no stranger to an experimental approach to his music. This is an album on which he doesn’t betray his roots. Recording under the name Ramona Falls, he enlisted the help of thirty-five of his closest musical friends to assist in the creation of Intuit, and although only his sonic fingerprint is immediately visible, the pure breadth of the musical scope seems a little impossible to credit to a single person. That’s not to deny the abilities of the man himself – he is a multi-instrumentalist in the best sense – not only can he play the instruments, he excels himself on them. Tracks such as “I Say Fever” and “Clover” have a skewed and dark but undeniably danceable feel, especially the former. Its infectious, dirty rhythm, delicate piano and jagged guitar lines compliment Knopf’s thick vocal delivery in the choruses, and with this it’s hard not to notice how profound his contributions are in Menomena’s work. There seems a guarded feel to his music, undoubtedly sung out from the heart but hidden cleverly behind articulate structures that form the tracks. That’s not to say that in any terms that this music is impersonal; quite the contrary, but it can seem rather indirect at times. This initial obliqueness soon disappears when the album hits “Going Once, Going Twice”, a slightly fragile, acoustic-driven number in which the vocals quiver ‘I’m desperate just to find/A rest bed, for my mind’. It is moments such as this, and equally so in “Salt Sack”, where the album really opens up. As the last note rings out in “Diamond Shovel”, it becomes clear that Brent Knopf’s strengths truly lie in these subtle, ephemeral moments, opening a window to where the heart lies in his music and allowing us, for a fleeting moment, to enjoy the view.

If this elusive heartfelt honesty is an invisible attribute to some, Knopf has the formula to reveal it. Intuit is a brave effort, and ultimately, a rewarding one.

- Dan England

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The Clientele - Bonfires on the Heath

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

Some of the greatest successes of an artist, in music or otherwise, could in some way be attributed to the ability to portray or define a specific moment in time, a location or a feeling. It’s an important feature of any facet of art to be fuelled by emotion; after all, the human condition is the root of all fine art. This too applies to music, and I’ve sometimes, though rarely, found myself personally yearning after a certain time of year, or weather, while listening to an album. What re-ignited this vague and unfamiliar feeling was listening to The Clientele’s sixth and latest record, Bonfires on the Heath.

The Clientele, despite their transatlantic, softer sound, are English. The sound of indie rock and pop in Britain has seemed to have taken a turn towards the angular in recent years, no less sophisticated but much more brash than what this London quartet offers. It is no surprise that they are signed to Merge Records, a large US-based label that has housed acts such as Arcade Fire and Neutral Milk Hotel – their popularity throws only a few embers across the Atlantic, barely reaching their home islands but burning bright in the states, making them unintentional expatriates. Their past work, always critically lauded but never breaking into the mainstream, seemed to be something of a build-up to Bonfires, and though the content is leaps and bounds away from the densely textured, strings laden God Save The Clientele, it still retains the indie pop sensibilities that were established in their previous work. “I Wonder Who We Are”, the album opener, injects chiming and gentle guitar lines accompanied by soft brass and precise drums. The title track that follows is lovely, evoking an evening spent inside a warm house to escape the cold – the skies darkening outside. Alasdair MacLean’s reverb drenched vocals give an almost ethereal quality to the sound, soaring above the instruments and making it easy to imagine how perfect the album title really is – the slow burn below, and the smoke disappearing into the still air. Other standout tracks include the gorgeous “Jennifer & Julia” and the latin-flavoured “I Know I’ll See Your Face”.

With Bonfires on the Heath, The Clientele have created an ideal autumn soundscape. Stand close, feel the warmth that radiates from this indie pop gem, and hope the sparks catch alight in the UK.

- Dan England

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Slayer – World Painted Blood

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

It seems that in the last few years, some of the more ‘classic’ bands, especially in metal or hard rock, have revisited their roots, and Slayer are no different. In a time when these old stalwarts of the thrash metal scene are regarded as dinosaurs, and they should be trying something new to expand on the genre, maybe even redefine it; unfortunately they revert to something that could be construed as their ‘early-style’, either through melody or composition. The inherent problem with this, of course, is that they could never achieve their classic sound; they’ve already taken things too far. They’re rich, they sell hundreds-of-thousands of albums every year, they don’t have the anger in them anymore, and if they do, they take it out in some overly expensive way (probably). Even if they didn’t sell tons of records or live in enormous houses, to revert to their early style would be completely out of context these days, if only through over-production.

World Painted Blood, Slayer’s grammatically infuriating eleventh LP is exactly what you’d expect from a thrash band in their forties, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Opening with the title track’s extended intro, the suspense and pace of the album are brought into the fray – all the hallmarks of the genre the band helped to create are present and correct. The pace is fairly varied between tracks, and the first half of “Beauty Through Order” gives you some respite from the pummelling the previous three songs dish out. Especially brutal is the powerful “Psychopathy Red”, or the mid-tempo, heavy “Americon”, Tom Araya yelling “It’s all about the mother fucking oil”, a line which, unfortunately, is as trite as it is uninteresting. Despite that Slayer differ somewhat from most of their peers simply because they could be considered parodists to a degree, they still fall out of perspective by today’s standards. The musicianship is as tight as it has ever been, and I have to hand it to them – even the dry and sharp production techniques of Greg Fidelman imbue a certain sense of the sensibilities of yesteryear, and the unusual technique of pushing the drums to the top of the mix works in its own strange way. Although World Painted Blood is a marked improvement over 2006’s Christ Illusion, the latter wallowing in the limbo of fresh and stale ideas, there still lingers a sense that their ideas are tame, offering little that is new.

- Dan England

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Say Anything – Say Anything

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

There’s something of a history of mental illness in music, a recurring affliction that seems to affect those straddling the thin line between genius and madness. Think Syd Barrett, Daniel Johnston, or Brian Wilson. This is no different for Max Bemis, whose pop punk/indie brainchild Say Anything has seen some success with his unusual and vibrant lyrical imagery that remains anchored deeply in everyday life. During recording of their debut masterpiece, …Is A Real Boy, Bemis suffered full-on paranoid delusions brought on by stress and heavy marijuana use, on top of what was diagnosed as bipolar disorder, and he was admitted to a mental institution. Over the next turbulent year or so, similar incidents occurred that caused the band to cancel a tour, and he was admitted to an institution once more. On their second album, the massive and impulsive double disc In Defense of the Genre, his illness and related experiences, channelled through introverted and dark social humour, was the governing theme.

A lot can change in two years. The latest offering from Bemis and friends, Say Anything, is still an angular and twisting journey through his mind– this time trading in contempt for hope, as the man himself admits on “Mara and Me” – “I can’t define myself through irony and self-deprecation”. The positivity that shines through on each of the thirteen tracks is almost palpable; and you can’t help but smile at the not-so-subtle nods to his influences, undeniably pop-punk at heart but a myriad of other styles, such as the soul horn section and sampled drums on “Less Cute” or the pizzicato strings and processed beats on “Do Better”. Max Bemis, as usual, plays all of the guitar, keyboard and vocal parts while leaving the bass to Alex Kent and the drums to the solid and impressive player Coby Linder, the only other remaining founding member. Highlights on this album are not difficult to pick out, whether it is the driving “Eloise” or the short and sweet opener “Fed to Death”, and it shows the rate at which both Bemis and the band’s maturity is growing. This is, for lack of a better term, a curious and interesting pop record, and if Say Anything continues to produce records of this quality, they will emerge at the top in their musical circles, always thinking ahead of the pack.

- Dan England

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Early Day Miners - The Treatment

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

A band that will never receive as much credit as they deserve, the Early Day Miners are synonymous with the experimental and often ambient rock that has been prevalent in the last decade or so. Consistently enjoyable to listen to, and never falling into the traps of a particular style or sound, their music has always conjured up exactly what they were trying to portray; whether it be flat, barren deserts, or soaring peaks. I had always considered their sound as ambient and sprawling, turning up melodic lines to their simmering point but never boiling over. This is where they excel – where most of their contemporaries conform to the pattern of quiet-loud-quiet, or the other way around, the EDM owe more to bands like Bedhead and Rex than Sigur Ros and Explosions in the Sky. Until now, that is.

I was aware that the Early Day Miners could sound indie rock, but I wasn’t prepared to hear them producing that much of an indie rock sound. The Treatment, their latest full-length, sees the band emerging as capable of tackling a straight-ahead sound. As usual, the revolving door of cast members on each album has taken another turn, and kitted out with a new group of musicians sees the core trio of Daniel Burton, Rory Leitch and Joseph Brumley transform into a totally different beast altogether. Using post-punk guitar lines and prominent keyboards makes tracks like “So Slowly” and “Becloud” a real treat to listen to, and a particular standout is the fantastically dark and compact “The Zip”. It could be said that their older material was hard to swallow in larger doses and also somewhat taciturn at times; it is advisable to spend a week or more listening to each of them.The Treatment, however, is a different species altogether. It’s the sort of album that could sate the casual listener, unusual textures in the most unexpected places but a fulfilling and altogether wonderful addition to their respectable discography.

- Dan England

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Russian Circles - Geneva

Originally published on Unbored.co.uk.

The term ‘post-rock’ is an enduring and undeniably overused term that roughly and somewhat harshly pigeonholes an act into appearing as part of nothing more than a trend. And, while some of the atrocious acts that exist are nothing more than a trend, this is particularly untrue for Russian Circles, who have been unfairly saddled with the post-rock tag.

Despite the fact that their clear influences lie in the ultimately more heavy direction, they still retain elements of other, more fledgling styles that don’t really have any crossover appeal but somehow work in the context of the band’s third LP, Geneva. While their debut showed great promise, and their instrumentation and melody were very much their own, they still couldn’t help but slip into what seemed to be their comfort zones; mostly balls-out rock, technical noodling, or both. It was a different scenario on their second record, Station. Although they still preserved the heavy, twiddling moments that were, admittedly, pretty great – there was something in the musicianship that shone for me – something that broke past and sometimes gave me the shivers. I think it was at that moment that Russian Circles unsettled me a little bit, and hopefully made critics as well as me think twice about the post-rock badge.

Geneva is a logical and, at often times, beautiful addition to their sound. Taking the fundamentals that Station displayed and building around it a wash of ethereal textures was a great idea; the unnecessary musical wankery that instrumental bands are in danger of belting out without justifying isn’t present, and gone is the fear that it could be around the corner. Brian Cook’s bass is a clear stand-out on this, and he steals the show on several occasions, cutting through with his fuzzed-out tones. Dave Turncrantz’s propensity to perform complex fills to accent his beats is what he is well-known for, and he shows remarkable restraint compared to their earlier work, preferring to add to the density of the composition rather than cloud it completely. There was an indication on the last album of the softer touch the band possesses, and this is evident in spades from the moment the discordant strings carry the tribal beats and guitar line on ‘Fathom’ and the gentle, almost orchestral movements in ‘Hexed All’.

This album doesn’t sound like Russian Circles. Or, at least the band we knew before. This is the sound of a band maturing and a band renewed, and although ‘epic’ is a throwaway word these days, I mean it – this is a truly epic record.

- Dan England