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 Black
Magical Mystery Tour
By
Mike Hotter
Liars
Sisterworld
If
you’re looking for a good time, the latest album from art-punk
outfit the Liars is probably the last thing I’d recommend.
Trouble is, you’d be missing out on some of the most intriguing
and unique rock music released so far in 2010. Recorded mainly
at various locales around Los Angeles (the liner notes indicate
at least 10 different California zip codes, with one recording
sojourn over in Prague), Sisterworld explores the menace
seething beneath the sunshine and sprawl, resulting in a work
that is disturbing and fascinating in the same way a great
horror film can be.
In a media environment where it becomes all too easy to feel
anesthetized to the constant news of war and violence (always
happening to what we consider others, so we grow ever more
complacent about even caring to stop it), Sisterworld
seems to want to jolt listeners awake by bringing the violence
closer. On opening track “Scissor,” Angus Andrew intones “I
dragged her body into the parking lot/I tried to find her
a savior/Right there amongst the cars”—lyrics that don’t provide
many clues as to what exactly the protagonist is up to, but
leave plenty of room for you to imagine the worst, subtly
implicating the listener in some imagined crime. Likewise,
the punk bash of “Scarecrows on a Killer Slant” was tailor
made for jumping around a room playing air drums, until the
yelled chorus of “Stand them in the street with a gun/And
then kill them all,” enlists you into some dark agency
that you didn’t plan on signing up for (at least initially).
Another basher, “The Overachievers,” seems to poke fun directly
at hipster complacency. (During all of this, Liars implicate
themselves as much as anyone else; after all, they are the
ones having such diabolical fun pointing out what hypocrites
we all are.)
What is particularly impressive about Sisterworld is
how closely its musical form agrees with its lyrical content:
Even without lyrics, the music alone would tell you that something
has gone seriously awry in the world this album inhabits.
It’s filled with moments of sinister beauty, where slightly
cockeyed strings and childlike melodies float atop mercilessly
propulsive beats. Elsewhere, fuzzed-out guitars play creeped-out
half-step increments alongside pretty electronic filigree,
as if Radiohead and a punk-metal band fronted by Iggy Pop
were in the studio under the direction of Brian Eno. Heavy
hitters to be sure, but the Liars have grown in the last decade
to be inducted into such ranks. It all adds up to a dark masterpiece
that examines the malaise affecting an entire generation,
and takes it out into the light, where eventually it might
dissipate.
Clogs
Creatures
in the Garden of Lady Walton
The
fifth album by Clogs continues with the varied beauty that
marked their previous release, 2006’s Lantern. Billed
as a song cycle, Creatures in the Garden of Lady Walton
was composed by Padma Newsome during an artist’s residency
on Italy’s island of Ischia, at Giardini La Mortella, whose
rich botanical settings were created by the widow of British
composer Sir William Walton, Lay Walton.
The 10 songs subtly communicate with one another, foreshadowing
or slyly interlocking. While instrumental settings are generally
favored, Newsome sings a couple, and the ensemble are joined
by guest vocalists Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond, Matt
Berninger from the National, and Sufjan Stevens. The sometimes
theatrical bearing of the singing adds a further element to
the proceedings as resonant, if elusive, characters make their
presence known. Drawing from chamber music, folk and cabaret,
the songs feel rooted in both American modernism and European
traditions. Throughout it all, the percussion of Thomas Kozumplik,
with its woody resonance, evokes alluring and enveloping environs.
These Gardens are a place that invites return visits.
—David
Greenberger
 The
Disco Biscuits
Planet
Anthem
Writhing
on the strobe-lit fringe where jam bands and rave culture
overlap, the Disco Biscuits spent the last dozen years informing
the circular groove of live psychedelic trance with busy set-list
shenanigans designed to impress its trainspotting fans. (“Hey,
this half-version of ‘Helicopters’ completes the one from
last Tuesday!”)
On Planet Anthem, the band aim to prove they can competently
simulate other forms of electronic music as well. Three years
in the making, brimming with guest musicians and producers,
Planet Anthem has the feel of a rough cut no one could
bear to whittle into a cohesive statement. And though cues
are taken from the likes of LCD Soundsystem and Zero 7, most
of this low-aiming but essentially successful after-party
soundtrack could have been released in the waning days of
the Clinton administration. The band’s signature “trance fusion”
sound is absent, in favor of moody chill-out fare and a few
exhilarating whiffs of disco-rock, with some winning but awkwardly
placed rock songs tossed in for good measure.
“You
And I” succeeds most obviously; it also sounds the least like
anything they’ve done before. Dancepop-flavored by a heavy,
delightfully corny guitar riff, it has more to do with Lady
Gaga than, say, Jerry Garcia. Some dude named Tu Phace takes
over the mic for “On Time,” a pill of pure Top 40 pleasure
crammed with disco synths and godawful computer-as-sex metaphors
that just have to be tongue-in-cheek. (We can only hope. Sample:
“Gonna program your device, unload the program from my key
drive.” Somehow, there’s no reference to RAM.) Three anthemic
rock songs, including the earnest Philly valentine “The City,”
are perfectly good but sound like they’re on the wrong album.
The balance of the long-player is composed of pleasant downtempo
tracks that all sound familiar. “Widgets” is anchored by a
moody piano riff and a vaguely trip-hop beat, with some backward
vocals, seemingly leftover from Kid A, slipped in.
Simultaneously, the album is a revelation in terms of the
band’s past work but generally irrelevant to everyone else.
It’s all rather agreeable and well-executed, and one suspects
it accomplishes its intended mission. But when an album seems
principally concerned with assembling designer guest spots
to prove a band can credibly create styles we’ve heard before,
you can’t help but wonder: What’s the point?
—Jeremy
D. Goodwin
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