Favorites this week:
Revenant Marquis - Youth in Ribbons (Death Kvlt Productions)
With the possible exception of the intro (again, I don’t get this thing of starting your record with some disconnected track that sounds like a pre-payment preview), this is exactly what I want from raw black metal in 2020: weirdness, obfuscation, and a haunting, terrorizing vocal. The odd sound quality is a thick veil that hangs between the listener and the core of the music, and the impact it has on the experience of the record reminds me of listening to Les Legions Noires records for the first time — that feeling of straining to hear something that was never meant to be discernable, like, what is happening? This is a whirlwind, and an urgent outpouring of something. “Grave Lit Transmogrification is as gloriously wonky, cold, and bonkers as anything I’ve ever heard; “The Blood of Lady Tasker” is diaphonous, flowing, whereas “The Bones” just rip (by the way, if “Lady Tasker” is indeed an Oliver Onions reference, then this is just straight up my favorite band now). That “S.”, the Welsh person behind this mysterious solo project, also gives interviews in which he speaks like a dying wizard (he claims this record represents a “pact between listener and artist” — I’m in, man!) is just icing on the cake.
Ghouli - Nothing
“I don’t need help destroying myself,” rasps Ghouli’s vocalist Poe on “Coffin,” our introduction to these six tracks of misanthropic, tightly wound hardcore. On the breakneck “Don’t Touch Me,” Poe feverishly shrieks invective about unwanted (male?) attention over a blisteringly fast riff-fest that borders on thrashiness; then it’s a left turn into the graveyard for the creeping, crawling (in tempo as well as lyrical content) “Top Boy” — Ghouli is good at both. Lyrically, the songs seem to mix all things spooky and occult with regular, everyday interpersonal loathing, a fitting mix for music that manages to sound both eerie and incredibly pissed off. With Nothing, Ghouli has served up an EP’s worth of tightly wound hardcore with killer riffs and great vocals — what’s not to like? I’m stoked for a full length.
Robert Haigh - Black Sarabande (Unseen Worlds)
Opening the haunted music box that is Black Sarabande reveals Satie-esque minimalist solo piano with cathedral reverb, then layers of synth cushioning an unplaceable weeping tone not unlike an Ondes Martinot, then placid harp and strings reminiscent of those soundtracking a visit to New Sorpigal in Might and Magic VI. On the short “Wire Horses,” the percussive effect of the hammers hitting the piano wires is extremely present, as if we are bending close to them with our heads inside the piano. There is a very thin shroud of electronics over these songs, but the piano is the main event. Despite its title, this music is more dusky than dark; it’s more melancholic, more blue, than black. There are fearful moments, like the impending doom in the intro to “Ghosts of Blacker Dyke,” but they give way to kind of icy calm. This is a gorgeous, evocative, addictive record, a world within itself.
Other stuff released this week:
Pia Fraus - Empty Parks (Seksound Record Label)
Empty Parks starts with that old familiar dreampop guitar pairing (the reverb-drenched lead and the jangly one underneath) and a gentle vocal interplay, the song slowly building with new elements folded in continually and almost imperceptibly. “Hidden Parks,” the opener, is a harmonically rich track that only grows in harmonic richness as it goes on. However, track two sees Pia Fraus quickly opting, as they will on and off throughout the album, for a more stripped-down approach that comes off almost twee, and the songs seem to become a lot less interesting melodically when this happens ("Love Sports" is indicative of this). The record starts and ends on high notes, and “The New Water” is another example of them harnessing their strengths — good harmonies, reverby swells, a heady layering of sounds that seems to float by. For a band that can soar like this when they want to, it’s a shame they spend so much time on land.
Pet Shop Boys - Hotspot (x2)
It is genuinely ridiculous that Pet Shop Boys insist on continuing to do this — that thing that the Pet Shop Boys do — as well as they do. How is it possible that Neil Tennant’s voice is still this good? How do they sound so of this current moment, while simultaneously sounding like the Pet Shop Boys we’ve always liked? “Burning the Heather” and “Will-o-the-Wisp,” synth-backed stories narrated by that foregrounded, highly enunciated vocal, could be from almost anywhere in the back catalog. “Wedding in Berlin” and “Monkey Business” are hilariously campy (the former actually quoting Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” against a disco beat). Hotspot isn’t their greatest work by a long shot, but it’s certainly not a misstep either. That they’re talking politics (in a coded way, but it’s there) while they party is a bonus.