Noise 101: CD reviews for Jan. 7
Alcoves
Alcoves
Self-released
It’s a rare gem when inert anxiety can be evinced as a tangible tool for contemplating the source of that very anxiety. Mackenzie Keefe’s first self-titled release under the moniker Alcoves is just that kind of tool — a collection of songs which individually disturb dreams regardless of their waking state, and altogether crank the shaft of a mine cart descending into limbo. Alcoves is simply made — one consistent brooding guitar tone, a cold-blooded vocalist and crunchy bass undertones of constant disquiet. Tracks like “Hear No Evil” and “The Underbelly” play like beasts from the underworld trudging about causing turmoil above with each step. Such turbulence is punctuated by tracks such as the pensively traced “Interlude” and “Monuments” — playing as subdued, desensitized breaks between the morbid sinkholes found in Alcoves. It’s an experience of romanticizing dejection — as ugly as it is enticing.
— Martine Balcaen
Aesop Rock
Skelethon
Definitive Jux
Unless you’re a hip hop patrician, Skelethon is a hell of a daunting full-length to wade through the first time around, with Leisureforce’s rapid-fire verses ripping through this release at the top and Ian Bavitz maintaining this ferocity down to the last grim moment of his latest piece of work. A couple standout moments are found when one realizes that kiddie-folk star Kimya Dawson is the one reciting the austere lyrics in the back of “Crows 1,” or laughing your ass off when you realize “Grace” is about the childhood bitching pertaining to having to eat your vegetables. From these obvious highlights shine a lyrically abysmal album where every new listen find another verse to linger on until the next. I expect that it’s going to take another few years to fully absorb Skelethon in its vastness.
— Martine Balcaen
The Mars Volta
Noctourniquet
Universal Music Group
Picturing the equivalent to a Pink Floyd or a Rush phase that this generation’s children will go through mid-adolescence, 10-20 years from now, it is easy to imagine that it’ll be The Mars Volta leading their coming-of-age musical awakening. Noctourniquet came as a surprise from a band that seemed to be drifting further toward the inaccessible no man’s land of progressive music called “for the fans.” It’s a bit ironic where The Mars Volta cut the fat on this release, avoiding their previous signature indulgent guitar-jacking and cryptic, esoteric lyricism. They manage to maintain the explosive intensity they were praised for in previous releases, all while remaining versatile. Noctourniquet aims to mesmerize the listener with new electronic elements, mystic ballads and mid-track mood changes, all without compromising the talent in composition or the gusto we’ve come to expect from them. The Mars Volta might have grown up, with less drive to treat every song like an assault on the current state of rock music, but the next person to say they’ve gone pop gets a shiner. This is not disposable music.
— Martine Balcaen
