Over at my other home on the inner webs Cvlt Nation we are streaming "Hard For Me to Focus" , but here are some thoughts about the entire record that Broke Hatre Records outta San Fran is unleashing upon the masses. Some of the murk " reminds of the Cure's more experimental moments. This beats the hell out of the last thing I heard by Creative Adult , who were going off into quaint little indie rock, I have not heard the new split they put out with Wild Moth, but I did notice they were gigging with some harder bands, so maybe things are a changing. "I Should have Begged" carries a clanging shoe-gaze that awakes from it's lethargy with a belligerent stumble. Baritone vocals mumble about "desperate conversations. I can hear some "Set the Controls For the Heart of the Sun" amid the swirling.
The album glances cold wave like sounds on songs such as "It's Hard to Worry For You" even with the Sonic Youth sharpness of the guitar following the synths. But it never is cold wave any more than Xiu Xiu or Liars , would be called that. The songs tend to take the drone of the groove and milk every last drop of opium from it. This grimy take on shoe-gaze that finds it's splattered in samples and noise should be the soundtrack played out every No-Tell Motel. There something sleazy about as the vocals mock you from behind the feedback jacket "I Can Be So Scared Wears" I could see this being Vice magazine's album of the year, it has a similar trashy hipster vibe.
The album takes a few steps in a darker direction on the haunting throb of "Sometimes You Whisper". Even though they use effect much differently, I would still call this shoe-gaze. The only thing punk about it might be it's attitude, but the ambiance reeks of oxycontin. Sometimes the songs nod of on themselves and leave behind a sonic mess staining the sheets. Yesterday some random guy tried to sell me drugs as I was walking down the street and it's a good thing I had not yet heard this album or I might have thrown away thirteen years of clean time and taken him up on the offer. If you do drugs, then good for you go listen to this album now, do not pass go or collect two hundred dollar. Take your entire stash, Obamacare will pay for the emergency room bill, just do it and listen to the title track (please note that if you take the advice of a blogger you don't know and do this, I am not to be held responsible, as it is Darwin at work thinning the herd.) The title track is rather alluring and the drums at one point find a more conventional beat before descending into the majick of space chaos.
The album is dripping with Robert Smith's guitar tone from the "Kiss Me, Kiss Me , Kiss Me" era. I would not call this post-punk, though "Crippled to the Bed" is cranky enough for it's staccato pound to earn that label if you were hard pressed to stick it on this. If you have already heard this first single off this then go ahead and skip to the next sentence, it's a piano driven ditty that has a catchy chant of distorted vocals meshing with it to make something unique. This is followed by the most rock n roll moment of the album, when guitar takes over "Moving Out". The monotone vocals ask to be held for just a second, the guitar drags the main riff out. They close the album on a more experimental note, twinkling Krautrock synths against drunkenly mumbled vocals. Overall the album is fun, when some of the noisier moments sacrifice at time what might have been a better album without having to try and prove how fucking cool this is to be experimenting with sounds.
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