It’s surprising that I like this album in the sense that, at least in my view, an easy reference point is many of the releases that have come from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and even his band before that, The Birthday Party. It’s very southern gothic, primal, and very dark. Not that I dislike Nick Cave – far from it. I’ve just never been fully able to get into his stuff as much as I respect it, and think it’s good, or really, great. But in terms of overall spirit, he is what comes to mind. Of course there was a certain punk rock attitude in even the quietest of his music, which I do not hear with this debut album. It feels like a lost soundtrack of sorts. The dark side of HBO’s vampire soap opera True Blood and the Coen Brothers’ O Brother Where Art Thou, for current references, pops out to me. Most strongly the feeling starts right from the first track, ‘Remains’, which sets up the feel for the entire album perfectly. With its dark, gothic vibe mixed with heavy gospel influences, combined with synths straight from a John Carpenter film score, you now know what you’re in for with this entire release. It’s a niche market this sound, no doubt, but done so masterfully, with such precision and such variety within it’s narrow world view (musically speaking of course), it feels like one of the most sincere albums I can ever remember hearing. That freshness is half the battle of making this such an enjoyable listen, even when, as I’ve said twice already, its a DARK listen. But there is a beautiful hope throughout every note, and most apparent in the gorgeous backing vocals and upbeat clapping that is prevalent in nearly every track. And not that every song is a dirge to get through, most are upbeat despite their atmosphere and lyrics. Even when that John Carpenter feeling makes a return on ‘Irony. Utility. Pretext.’, the tempo picks up considerably, giving the sense you’re hearing a song that could easily be a pop theme song from one of his films. This is soul. This is gospel. This is passion. This is politics. This is brooding. This is synth. This is SWEAT. This is humidity. This is dense. This is a beautifully angry call for change. “Four hundred years of torture/Four hundred years a slave/Dead just to watch you squander/What we tried to save/So drown in entertainment/’Cause all our blood’s in vain.”

Label

Matador Records