Saturday, January 24, 2015

Antemasque - Self-Titled




            Like many other fans, when longtime collaborators Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez parted ways with the dissolution of the Mars Volta in early 2013, I was heartbroken. Together, they had formed one of the most prolific duos in the world of music, and their bitter separation[1] had left an alarming hole in the world of rock. However, when they announced a return with their new full time project Antemasque[2], I could not help but be excited, grabbing for a copy of their eponymous debut. After spinning it incessantly for the past few months, I can say with certainty that, although it is not without its faults, I have not heard a record as honest as Antemasque in a very long time.
            In the foundations of both this band and this record is ingrained a very simple mission: for a group of friends to simply express themselves through music, without allowing any deeper terms or purpose to get in the way. In an official statement, the band proclaimed that their debut record “is what happens when artists collaborate for love of playing together, without an end result in mind.”[3] The sound of Antemasque is that of four musicians with a long history (both Flea and Dave Elitch had previously performed with the Mars Volta[4]) reuniting to throw all their energy into some original tunes, and indeed, these guys leave nothing behind. Omar’s jangly melodies and gritty chords wash against Dave’s thundering drum beats, and Cedric’s screams seem ripped right out of the first days of rock ‘n’ roll. While such a basic objective does leave a lot of the record feeling underdeveloped, one cannot deny the absolute ferocity with which these four attack their parts.
            I am always loathe to compare a record to the artists’ previous endeavors, but with every spin, I have a harder time finding significant similarity between Antemasque and anything else Cedric and Omar have created. Undeniably, there are elements of the past present in some tunes—“Ride Like the Devil’s Son” and “Momento Mori” carry a flavor reminiscent of TMV, and “I Got No Remorse” packs as much punch as any At the Drive-In tune—but no part of this record belongs to any act but Antemasque. Omar’s riffs range from prog-rock through punk and into pop, but his open chord shapes and sparse effect work feel more like distilled rock than anything else. Similarly, Cedric’s soulful melodies and raspy wails dominate a sonic territory previously owned by the likes of Robert Plant and Ronnie James Dio. For a duo with an already widespread catalog, cultivating yet another unique sound and style is all but incredible, yet Antemasque gracefully and enthusiastically takes complete ownership of that feat.


            The distinct sound and limitless energy on Antemasque are both positive products of the band’s mission statement of “music for music’s sake;” unfortunately, that mission makes the composition on the record largely come off as both weak and unexplored. Many of Cedric’s lyrics, while perfectly functional, lack a vivid poetic vision, and every song title has apparently been lifted from the lyrics. He relies heavily on clichés, such as the images “arm and a leg” and “long way down” from “In the Lurch,”[5] and this tendency takes away from the strength of any unique or interesting lines he does utilize. And while the instrumental side feels much more fleshed out and developed, the hurried mix leaves the string section feeling thin while the bass drum booms, furthering the “not-quite-finished” feeling that permeates the record.
            Although lacking in some areas, there are still many intelligent decisions embedded in the songs on Antemasque, and no tune feels more complete than “Providence.”  Perhaps the heaviest piece on the record, “Providence” explores a dense darkness that the rest of the album only hints at. The seething and creepy chord progression, complete with syncopated hits announcing each repeat, lays out a sinister scene before exploding into a heavy and hateful chorus. Similarly, Cedric’s warning against “a mess that devours its own” quickly leads into his terrified exclamations of “you will burn me at the stake.”[6] The watery effects and stuttering Cedric applies to his melodies further deepens the disquiet. Every second of “Providence” breeds a sense of unease while pumping adrenaline into the listener, and captures the true potential of this project.


            In the end, the music on Antemasque comes off as interesting yet unremarkable, but the intensity of presentation and performance marks this band as one absolutely laden with potential for greatness. There is a lot of space left unexplored in the record, and a simplicity that jars our expectations of this group. However, this project is at its very core one of friends getting together to make music without any goal or vision in mind, leaving us with an end product that is wholly honest and tons of fun. At its very least, Antemasque gives us a new look at this super-duo’s capabilities; at its most, it shows that there is much to come from this group, if they can maintain the mission. 


Tunes to Check Out:
1) Providence
2) I Got No Remorse
3) 50,000 Kilowatts
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Saturday, January 3, 2015

Silversun Pickups - Carnavas



            All too often, artists who attempt to redefine music fall short of true innovation, as their focus on the technical, you’ve-never-heard-this-before aspects invariably leaves no room for true, human connection with the medium. The acts that revolutionize music are those who converge on pure expression, and since my first listen, I’ve always found Silversun Pickups’ Carnavas to be such an endeavor. Their choice to equalize the sound of their music with the “feeling” of it imbues the record with a sense of connection and humanity I have rarely encountered since.  
            Much of the composition on this album is relatively simplistic, with general dynamics and only one song outside of 4/4 time, but Silversun Pickups layers much complex thinking over this modest foundation. Chris Guanlao’s drums and Nikki Monninger’s bass form a rhythmic template of sorts, over which Brian Aubert and Joe Lester layer gritty, atmospheric chords and voluminous melodies. Both these players seem to blend and interchange, a fact that is driven by Aubert’s penchant for using his guitar “as a texture and less as a guitar in itself.” Indeed, the combination of guitar and keyboards is so thick and vibrant that, according to Aubert, “on Carnavas…sometimes we didn’t know quite what was happening.”[1] Mixed with its simplistic roots, this focus on making the instruments come together as one cohesive, amalgamated sound gives this record a very unique and unified feel that many acts reach for but few attain.
            The sound of Carnavas is at once empty and full; at times a colossus of sound storms through the speakers, while at others the ears must strain to hear the faintest notes. Unlike most other bands I’ve heard, Silversun Pickups relies often on the idea of negative space in music, and this record is no exception. Songs like “Checkered Floor” and “Rusted Wheel” feature sparse composition and quiet dynamics, allowing the spaces between notes to speak as loudly as the notes themselves. Similarly, “Three Seed” (a song that has me so enamored I had written a spotlight piece on it), despite featuring all four musicians, is void of complicated riffing or even a raised voice. This center on silence in a record is both unique and fascinating, and allows us to access the heavy emotions dripping from Silversun Pickups’ music by filling that space with our own meaning and experience.


            While Silversun Pickups is ostensibly solid as a unit, one member takes the music of this band to a higher level. Joe Lester seems to have an almost omniscient understanding of his instrument and the millions of ways in which it can be employed. His rhythmic chords create layers of environment in each song, and his manipulation of samples and sounds completes the spacey, shoegaze-y feel that Carnavas explores. Though most of the time his keys maintain the ambience of the song, Lester is hardly afraid to tear through intricate solos and poignant melodies when given the chance. In tunes like “Future Foe Scenarios,” his pieces drive the song forward, complementing Aubert’s vocals and filling the ear when they drop out, and soaking each piece in waves of emotion and honesty.
            Just as Joe Lester stands out as the most colorful contributor to Silversun’s sound, in my opinion, there is one member whose involvement really holds that sound back. While drummer Chris Guanlao’s beats are loaded with syncopation, he seems to fulfill his rhythmic role in the most basic manner possible. His performances on Carnavas lack either energy or life, and his complete avoidance of variation, improvisation, or enthusiasm makes his percussion as effective and meaningful as a drum machine. The only moment where he comes to life lies at the end of “Melatonin” when he slams his foot down on the kick drum, a moment that makes that song explode and proves he is capable of bringing intensity and innovation to his instrument. While Chris Guanlao certainly fulfills his obligation as drummer for Silversun Pickups, his lackadaisical and uninventive execution of that obligation leaves him as the weakest link on this record.


            The simple but sensitive sound of Silversun Pickups is pervaded by honesty and emotion, creating a reflective backdrop for Brian Aubert’s vocals. Aubert takes vivid imagery and expels it in alternating screams and whispers, soaking every syllable in the rage, the sadness, and the excitement roiling inside him. He takes on a sinister tone in “Waste It On” as he declares “Let’s start making / Maps out of all the dead skin,”[2] while in “Lazy Eye,” he wraps both excitement and trepidation around the line “I’ve been waiting for this silence all night long / It’s just a matter of time.”[3] Much of his lyrics read like poetry, such as the lines “motorcade of ‘meant-to-be’s” and “present tense…strangled in the mire / Made of our cozy decomposing wires” from “Future Foe Scenarios.”[4] Aubert’s writing prowess leads each tune on Carnavas to victory while translating the humanity in the composition into something we can digest with our minds as well as our hearts.
            Though some songs are inherently sturdier than others (“Little Lover’s So Polite” was apparently abandoned twice before being haphazardly assembled in the studio[5]), Carnavas as a whole is a record both delightful and insightful. Silversun Pickups’ exploration of textures in the treble range is fascinating and fun, and they present tunes that are heartfelt in almost every manner possible. Their focus on the “feeling” of music, both emotional and physical, is one of the inspirations for the music of Hiss the Villain, and continues to lead me in my own sonic explorations.  


Tunes to Check Out:
1) Three Seed
2) Melatonin
3) Checkered Floor

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