THIS WEEK’S NEW ALBUMS REVIEWED | FEATURE
Zeros (Columbia)
Recorded in Nashville, this precocious indie-pop wunderkind’s much anticipated second release was delayed, like much else, by the pandemic though it proves well worth the wait. Despite its dystopian themes of late-period capitalism and the apathetic consumerism it has unleashed, this is a shimmering, defiant pop record at heart. You Better Believe is a confident, rollicking opener, Twice Your Size twangs like Morricone amidst washes of thrilling discordant guitars, Emily wears its country leanings lightly and Beautiful Faces will be the lighters-in-the-air anthem when the festivals return.
Elsewhere, the Thatcher-referencing Rapture wanders into the soft rock-cum-electropop last favoured by Discovery-era Daft Punk. McKenna’s [pictured] desire to marry his many differing influences sometimes threatens to overwhelm. But it’s Be An Astronaut that’s the highlight, a baroque wigout that clearly owes more than a little debt to Life On Mars, but still shines brightly on its own terms.
words PAUL JENKINS
Krononaut (tak:til)
Kronos was the Titan God who overthrew his father Uranus and started a decade-long Olympian battle. So there’s something a little Sun Ra about the idea of producer/guitarist Leo Abrahams and drummer Martin France’s new ensemble taking to the heavens to make music that floats around the calm and chaos of space.
At its best, Krononaut is the futurism of Miles Davis’ Big Fun beamed forward to 2020 with Arve Henriksen’s flute-like trumpet floating over static bass grooves and ethereal soundscapes. Abrahams’ guitar, abstract and at times heavily effected with ring modulation, is reminiscent of John Zorn, and his production style highlights the tension and release of free improv and experimentation. But when the ensemble is reduced to the rhythm section some of the soul is lost. Contributions from Henriksen and saxophonist Matana Roberts help lift the texture out of the free jazz battleground and both bring a lightness that sets the ensemble soaring to more celestial heights.
words JOHN-PAUL DAVIES
The Beginning Of New Endings (Strange Entertainment)
One thing is for sure: this EP doesn’t belong in 2020. But the jury’s out on whether that’s a good thing.
Madina Lake’s The Beginning Of New Endings is a time capsule from the American alt-rock band’s golden 00s era – you could play their latest music alongside their earlier discography and barely recognise the transition, despite it being nine years since their last release. The uninspired guitars, angsty vocals and roaring drums make it feel like they haven’t graduated past adolescence. It’s the same with the lyrics, with there being few standout lines – the words “trapped in a Ritalin state of mind” feature on Silver Lines but this is merely a glimmer of excitement in an otherwise sedate EP. The tone is more accurately summarised with “Under that pain is a beautiful soul / A beautiful heart of gold”, which is sung by lead vocalist Nathan Leone on Heart of Gold, perhaps the track list’s most clichéd song.
The strongest offering is the closing track Tiny Weapons – it’s the most mature, multifaceted and original song on the album. It would be exciting to see Madina Lake travel in a different direction hinted at by this final, eight-minute-long track, that keeps the essence of their alt-rock but elevates it past the mid-00s trap they seem to be in.
words KAT SMITH
SOUNDWALK COLLECTIVE WITH PATTI SMITH
Peradam (Bella Union)
Peradam is the final part of a triptych of Soundwalk Collective albums celebrating three French poets: Arthur Rimbaud, Antonin Artaud and René Daumal, whose work is at the heart of this album. All three poets were restless individuals in search of spirituality that was reflected on within their art, much like vocalist Patti Smith herself, who has probably not had to take things as far as Daumal did in the pharmaceutical department.
The New York-based Soundwalk Collective travelled to India and Upper Mustang for their field recordings to enhance the authenticity of Peradam in relation to Daumal’s 1940’s novel Mount Analogue: A Novel Of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures In Mountain Climbing. The resulting soundscapes, entwined with field recordings and Smith’s spoken word, are enthralling. Charlotte Gainsbourg’s dreamy vocals and Anoushka Shankar’s sitar also help take the listener on Daumal’s journey, but it’s Smith’s reading of The Rat that is worth the price of admission alone.
words DAVID NOBAKHT
Barbarians (Gadzook)
Of all those who found themselves included in Vice’s recent rundown of the “50 greatest landfill indie songs of all time” (whatever that means), Young Knives were the most incongruous. The band that started out by dropping sections of Throbbing Gristle songs into their own were still refreshingly idiosyncratic even at their (modestly) commercial peak and, according to frontman Henry Dartnall, have since “gone further than full circle”. Recent livestream performances from a caravan, involving Rage Against The Machine and Death Grips covers plus visuals and backing vocals from Henry’s 10-year-old son Arthur, bear that out.
As does Barbarians, their first LP since 2013’s Sick Octave – a confection of sinister synths, bursts of noise, muffled chants and unrelenting oddity. “Dinner ladies kept me in the basement”, Dartnall sings on opener Swarm, which would at least explain his lockdown chic, while Red Cherries is a faintly terrifying, wake-up-in-a-cold-sweat industrial fever dream and the title track begins with scrapping Brummies before being hijacked by a cyborg Gary Numan. A complete mess, to be sure – but all the more fascinating for it.
words BEN WOOLHEAD