on the pulse - 2021 - #16 - lorde, halsey, chvrches, deafheaven, between the buried and me

Yeah, if you can’t tell we’re going to go back to (slightly) shorter episodes - the ten albums a time was a thing, but it didn’t help me be as timely as need be, and after a very unproductive vacation I really need to find a way to get back on something approximating a schedule… so let’s get On The Pulse!

Deafheaven - Infinite Granite - I remember when I first covered Deafheaven in 2015, where I was still very new to black metal and I did a fair amount of research and listening to get into the genre so I could review them properly - a lot of Wolves In The Throne Room and Alcest and all the acts doing Deafheaven’s ‘blackgaze’ sound for decades minus the marketing budget. Not saying Sunbather wasn’t pretty great, but with the benefit of hindsight and now approaching Infinite Granite which effectively ditches black metal for twinkly post-rock and shoegaze… well, I refuse to say that the trve kvlt crowd had a point calling these guys hipsters dabbling in the sound ironically for critical popularity, but if this was ultimately where Deafheaven was going to wind up, acknowledging Sunbather may have been a commercial moment for one band instead of a movement revolutionizing the sound - as a lot of bad mainstream music journalists said it was - should not be controversial. And sure, none of this is surprising and outside of some annoyingly inconsistent interviews nobody cares that much if a band changes genres except the most pedantic people, and Ordinary Corrupt Human Love laid some groundwork for this, but I can’t be the only one who thinks this screams, ‘we were never that comfortable near black metal anyway, but the intensity worked for novelty for an audience that didn’t know any better, and now that we’re done with the moment, we’re going to go into softer territory rather than act like we can contend with heavyweights like Panopticon or, hell, that’s convenient timing, Wolves In The Throne Room’! And it’s hard to shake this cynical feeling as we get Deafheaven recruiting Justin Meldal-Johnsen on production and gauzy synths and compositions that feel gutted of their muscle to chase increasingly linear, cyclical melodies that might occasionally be pretty and well-arranged - god, I feel so bad for their drummer Daniel Tracy who is trying to add more complex fills all across this album - but lack dynamics or distinctive texture or any sort of credible impact. Or hell, even all that much that would differentiate them from your average shoegaze band - with some of these guitar tones, outside of the final swing back into black metal at the very end on ‘Mombasa’, 2000s Coldplay could have made some of these songs! And let’s be blunt: George Clark was never that distinctive of a screamer, so when he’s doing soft focus crooning somewhere between Steven Wilson and your average willowy indie timbre with only the occasional scream, it’s not remarkable or potent. And especially when you juxtapose it with writing that still going for heavy subjects like environmental collapse and violence within families and existential crises, a soft focus shoegaze palette and dreamy major chords can feel jarringly out of place, especially when ironic contrast doesn’t seem to be the point! It’s really more an issue of his style of poetry rather than the content itself - at its best, Deafheaven’s poetry had a broadly painted, impressionistic style that could feel bleakly visceral and violent, and it hasn’t really changed much beyond some symbolism on various shades of blue. But where it gets more jarring is that the undercurrent of nihilistic emptiness that persisted on New Bermuda is also still here, where it’s less about making peace with death and the endings sprawling ahead of you and more bleary-eyed and dazed; nothing we can do, they can’t fail you, you can’t let them down, just go off into the void, which might work in an individualist context but really sours on me when it includes any environmentalist text to say nothing of a smash-cut ending! So what you get is an album set against itself - performances either straining for more potency or subsumed into the blissful vibe, poetry that feels more visceral but isn’t performed in a way to sell it or match its subject matter with any sense of urgency. And what frustrates me is that I’m not surprised - Deafheaven have said this album isn’t far removed from what they’ve done before, and I actually agree when you dig into the details of this vibe and approach; the problem is that they’ve stripped away their most potent compositional strengths, exposed their limitations in performance, and rendered themselves utterly toothless along the way. Still… melodically it’s inoffensive enough and the drumwork is legit great, so light 5/10 - paradoxically if you thought Deafheaven was too heavy, you might be able to get onboard, but otherwise… not for me.

Wolves In The Throne Room - Primordial Arcana - I have no idea why I haven’t reviewed Wolves In The Throne Room before now. Well, okay, maybe I do - 2014’s Celestite was a synth-inflected ambient piece and 2017’s Thrice Woven might have fallen between the cracks of scheduling, but if we are talking about one of the bands that helped break me into atmospheric black metal, it would be them, from the shredded cacophony of their early work to how they expanded their sound with touches of doom, gothic folk and some of those ambient synth influences. Now you could definitely make the argument that their sound - which always wore a lot of its influences on its sleeve - was starting to have diminishing returns and the change-ups might not have been enough to fully save them, but reportedly this was their strongest release in years. And… to some extent it is, but if I told you that ‘yep, sure it is a modern Wolves In The Throne Room album’, I’m not sure how much more I need to add. Lyrics drilling into the feral, ritualistic, deeply environmentalist streak delivered through shrieks and death growls, blast beat drumwork that feels a little too clean and could really use more dynamic basslines, waves of soaring, tremolo riffing occasionally intercut with lead guitar tonal changeups and acoustic interludes, and just a hint of synth or woodwind inflections and choral vocals around the edges, you’ve heard this formula before, now augmented with a windswept, creeping orchestral piece as a bonus cut at the end. The biggest change for Wolves In The Throne Room in recent years have come in compositions that feel more conventionally structured - fewer grand pieces that run long, shorter pieces that have more consistent melodic motifs that could even be considered ‘catchy’ in spots… but only to a point. And that might be the issue: the band’s 2000s run has been imitated by so many acts over the last decade in texture and content that simply playing to a more accessible version of the old formula is fine, but not really rising above it, especially if the melodic passages are good, but not great. And thus, while this is pretty good and generally likable, it doesn’t come close to their best and I’m not sure how much it’ll stick - and given that was a factor in changing up their compositions, that’s kind of a problem! So with that… light 7/10, I feel like for as much hype as this has received, I should like this more than I do.

Between The Buried And Me - Colors II - So I’ve gone on the record saying that if there was an album that hooked me on the possibility I could like progressive metalcore and death metal, it was the one-two punch of Alaska and Colors by Between The Buried And Me, both of which I first heard in university and served as major opening points to a subgenre of metal for which in recent years… well, to be honest, I’ve had a lot of difficulty capturing that same alchemy. And what surprises me is that Colors shouldn’t work for me - it’s manic and features little in the way of coherent or consistent transitions, it’s frequently kitschy in a way that should be inexcusable, it’s indulgent to the point where it should be draining - and yet it works, a careening, amazingly well-balanced but splashy tour de force where its lyrical themes matched its compositional scope, that at least to me still holds up paradoxically far more than their cleaner and more accessible work in the 2010s! So why not go back to the well to see what works? Well to be frank, the best way to describe Colors II is as a spiritual sequel, not just in that some of the blocky guitar production and mixing feels imported from 2007, especially in the synths - we’ll get to that - but also in expanding the thematic synergy between lyrics and compositional approach that was the greatest strength of that album. Which is a little odd because Between The Buried And Me are a different band than they were nearly fifteen years ago, and it’s hard to escape the feeling that in order to recapture that feeling of whiplash zaniness that was groundbreaking in 2007 but may feel less dynamic or potent in the wake of acts influenced by it, Colors II winds up losing the plot a bit - ironic because this album actually does feel a little more direct in its language describing the urban dystopia around us, even if the arc of seeking creative freedom remains mostly metaphorical in its sanity-breaking attempt to chase transcendence. If anything I’m reminded a bit of when Devin Townsend made his sequel to Ziltoid: The Omniscient in 2014, or the progression of the Saint’s Row games, where there were callbacks and fanservice and it was hitting recognizable notes - and I’ll admit it was kind of charming when it happens here too - but it felt broader and more cartoonish and it kind of dampened the vibrancy of the original, instead of playing for a higher concept it feels a bit more literal. And let’s be honest, Between The Buried And Me are a lot more melodic and a little less heavy than they used to be, so there’s a lot more progressive melodic development, but less contrast, especially when they aren’t using those stronger melodic instincts for sharper song construction. Yeah, the metalcore elements are there, but they’re less foundational and that means the synths, clean vocals, brighter guitars and wacky pivots are way more prominent - and over a 78 minute runtime with little concern for dynamics or transitions or coherent hooks, the impact starts to fade. Most of this is felt in the synths which are increasingly weedy and ornamental in texture than actually contributing to the mix, but then you get diversions that just don’t work: for every moment like the actual hook and quasi-lounge passage on ‘Revolution In Limbo’ or the brighter folk passages on ‘Never Seen / Future Shock’ to the richer analog synths of ‘Turbulent’ or the classic rock-inspired touches on ‘Bad Habits and the first half of ‘Prehistory’ that absolutely kicks ass, you get the bass-heavy oiliness overpowering the lead guitar on ‘Fix The Error’ with the damn cowbell or the sticky synth ugliness of ‘The Future Is Behind Us’ with the stupid sampling or the screwball ‘callback’ second half of ‘Prehistory’. And honestly, I was set to accept the experiments that did and didn’t work in stride, especially as there’s some real virtuoso playing here, but between the length and compositions that constantly feel like they’re remembering themselves to bring together some sort of motif, which only highlights how unstructured they otherwise feel… strong 6/10, I really wanted to like this more.

CHVRCHES - Screen Violence - It shouldn’t have felt as prophetic as it did that CHVRCHES underperformed in 2018. Not commercially - working with more ‘name’ producers got them more playlist placements and that Marshmello collab and pushed them fully out of just being indie darlings - but at least to me Love Is Dead felt like a change-up with the wrong intentions in mind. Yes, the trio needed a shift from writing the same synthpop arc and hitting the same thematic touchpoints, especially when this was a band that relied on a lot of direct firepower, but bringing in a lot of other producers who didn’t get the core strength of CHVRCHES’ melodic grooves led to a compromised and far weaker album that felt like another disappointment in a miserable year. So when I heard that the band was pulling all the production back in house for a project that was mostly recorded separately in quarantine, all the while shifting their sound to something darker and more touched with rock, I had a hope this would work… and thank god, it does! Now let me start by saying I don’t think this rises to the level of their first two albums - the hooks don’t quite soar with the same punch consistently outside of ‘How Not To Drown’, ‘Final Girl’, ‘Good Girls’, you can tell they’re still adapting to embracing more jagged guitars and bass to support the coursing melodic grooves that were their strong suit, even if ‘Nightmares’ starts to encroach on hard rock in parts, the mixes still feel a little overcompressed and percussion-dominant - but if you were looking for CHVRCHES to drill back into the huge splashy synths and impeccable melodic balance that made them so striking, this time drilling into the darker and slightly more modern touches of mainstream synthpop without going for the obvious retro-disco rollick, this album delivers in spades, with Lauren Mayberry’s cutting vocals hitting with the dynamic intensity that hooked me eight years ago. More importantly, it shows them moving away from the same relationship arc they worked to death on their first two albums - yeah, ‘He Said She Said’ has the cutting focus on unfair expectations and gaslighting that CHVRCHES routinely nail, but much of this album is more introverted and questioning, taking hints of horror movie iconography and like in the more cerebral films using it as broader metaphors to explore her personal neuroses of being trapped by her own mind or circumstances set upon her, especially being stuck underperforming in California so far away from home. In a few ways it reminds a little of Bleachers’ last album in scrabbling for anthemic escape, but there’s a strident fullness to CHVRCHES’ production that feels very welcome, even if I would argue this album is a little more exploratory that shows where CHVRCHES could vary their formula going forward, even if it’s cribbing wholesale from The Cure. Still, this is a strong 8/10 - such a welcome return to form, highly recommended!

Halsey - If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power - I’ll admit this was the first time I was legit intrigued about a new Halsey album. No real singles unless you consider the tacked on mistake ‘Nightmare’ - and I don’t - but the big story were producers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, who you might recognize most from their work with Nine Inch Nails, which finally suggested Halsey would be making a pivot to something darker and potentially more rock or alternative-driven, finally back up some of their ambitions. And more importantly, they might finally be able to find some production consistency, an issue that’s plagued them since the very beginning, so suffice to say I had expectations this time… and now having listened to it multiple times, I’m a lot more frustrated than I want to be. Putting aside how on earth Halsey convinced their labels to ship this album, the best way I can describe this album is an ambitious overreach that I want to like more than I do and is the definition of a project that’ll get a cult following despite its wild inconsistencies. And I want to get that out of the way first: the mixing and mastering on this album is a complete mess; not production, which in terms of the dark keyboards and colder alternative rock grooves that tilt just the slightest bit towards industrial rock and breakbeat is actually pretty potent, but how all of that is presented is so inconsistent from track to track that it takes me out of the album every time. The vocal mixing in particular is rough, not just in terms of mix placement where on the heavier tracks Halsey winds up buried and losing all raw firepower, but in terms of fidelity where for no adequate reason the quality measurably dips like on ‘You asked for this’ and ‘The Lighthouse’, or the placement is compressed and too close on ‘1121’, and when you consider just how many jarring tonal shifts there are, it’s hard for any atmosphere to coalesce. Granted, Halsey doesn’t really help - I’ve said this before, I’ve never been impressed with their voice in terms of emotional expressiveness or presence, so when you go for more of an alt-rock vibe I start thinking ‘wow, this sounds like Garbage - and I mean they’ve got the same issues as Shirley Manson where they’re just as concerned with vamping and stylism rather than the potent, visceral impact of which I know they’re capable’. And that takes us to the writing, and where I really wanted to get onboard with this, because there’s a lot to be pulled from the experience of pregnancy, especially after as many miscarriages Halsey has had, and how society at large treats people who are pregnant, especially coaxed through the Madonna/whore iconography. Halsey also said this isn’t a ‘girl-power’ album and I absolutely agree, not just in moving away from a gender binary but mostly because there are a lot of songs describing what is inflicted upon women, not just in abusive relationships but from society at large, especially when paired with depression and one’s own self-destructive instincts and a few too many bad relationships. And yet… it doesn’t feel potent to me, the impact isn’t there - maybe it’s the wildly inconsistent mixing, maybe it’s Halsey not being able to sell it - you go from Lingua Ignota to this and you can tell who can create a more visceral experience - but the writing also has a feel of tryhard edginess that the production and delivery just don’t match, especially on the stylized moments of pop melodrama that don’t fit alongside points that are more complicated and raw: the dark edges of ‘Tradition’, the haunted ‘Whispers’, and I actually really like how the writing is framed on ‘You asked for this’ in forcing a question of consequences even if it’s mixed like crap! It’s frustrating because while this is a mess that I don’t think has a single song better than the best cuts on Manic, let alone the guest appearance on ‘forget me too’, there’s a part of me that wants to defend this because there’s enough ambition and feminine moral complexity especially building off systems around them that kind of gets lost in its own stylism and inconsistency - it’s no surprise at all Taylor Swift was blown away by this, it’s the spiritual partner to reputation! And as such, while I’m giving this a strong 5/10, I absolutely recommend you hear it - I’m not convinced it works at all, but for the folks where it does, it’ll be something special.

Lorde - Solar Power - I’m happy I’m getting to this album a bit later than everyone else - because I saw the buzz and I saw the pretty sharp backlash to this album, where folks were saying that the Lorde who made Pure Heroine and Melodrama would never have abided the lightweight, tepid sounds of Solar Power. And as someone who was lukewarm on those lead-off singles… well, I felt like I needed more of the picture with this project, so I wanted to give it some real attention. And… well, it’s a tricky album to talk about. Let me start by saying that yes, I do agree that this is probably Lorde’s smallest and weakest album to date, but I would argue that’s by design - more than ever Lorde seems completely ambivalent to being a pop star and even less so as the ‘new leader’ that so many in the music industry wanted her to be, especially when she’s had her own issues to parse through. That might be the most transgressive part of this album, which is primarily spare, watery acoustic guitars, the occasional gooey synth and loose, playful abandon all while being pretty short on hooks and dramatic intensity: Lorde is not particularly interested in engaging with your expectations about her and her art; she’s seen the industry games and has realized the only way to win is not to play, so if the entire project feels underwhelming or like a giant Gen Z middle finger at everything… well, that’s because it is, even moreso than Billie Eilish’s last album. Granted, amidst all the playful winks at the audience there is an emotional core here - it’s an album that more than ever seems to have internalized climate grief and realizing that she can’t change the system from being at the top, seems to settle into idyllic things that give her more pleasure and self-actualization, looking inward and opening questioning what she really wants to do and feeling better as a result. And where I think this album could have stuck the landing is if she explored these questions a little further: dig into the utopias she wants to construct for herself and what could mean or reflect, especially given how she’s got the luxury to build them from the very top, ditch whatever level of irony she’s on, look at the big picture… but then I realized that Lorde has never been about the ‘big picture’, which I pointed out eight goddamn years ago! That’s why Pure Heroine never fully clicked for me, the follow-through was always unrealized but it felt like more because of her dramatic intensity and the spare arrangements, and on Melodrama she played into those strengths to go pop and it felt like a huge moment in a world turning against everyone. Solar Power, meanwhile, is breezy and actively blunts her intensity - in more ways than one - and even despite all the legit pretty multitracking, when she brings fewer hooks the empty air in this utopia becomes revealing, and the “satire” feels undercooked. Part of this is because if she’s going to take the piss out of vapid new age commercialism and alienation like on ‘California’, ‘Dominoes’, and especially ‘Mood Ring’, maybe don’t pick a sound so thoroughly commodified by it - seriously, ‘Mood Ring’ is ‘With You’ by Jessica Simpson by way of Jewel’s ‘Intuition’ - but with that example, the other part is that we’ve been down this road before; I remember the pop spiritualism and levels of vague, Gen X satirical irony that rarely connected running rampant twenty years ago, and the escapist utopia feels even more jarring now. Maybe some of this is the isolation driven by the New Zealand factor, which dodged the worst of the pandemic, but even then I see why this could resonate for a generation who looked inwards to find their bliss, which if that’s her journey, it’s valid… but it feels way more detached from urgency - she’ll deconstruct utopias, but not open a glimpse to her own. Now all of that being said, while there’s nothing here that matches the best of her first two albums, I do think there are legit pretty moments here, mostly courtesy of the vocal tracks - Lorde still has that magnetism. But while this is an intriguing listen, like most utopian stories I always find myself leaving early. 6/10, just lukewarm on it - which might be the most fitting reaction of all.