Recommended Record
– It Hugs Back
Herewith, the first three words to come to mind during the
first minute of the latest It Hugs Back album, Recommended Record: “Holy
crap, Swervedriver!”
It is a sentence that has been uttered by very, very
few. Ever. But Recommended
Record careens out of nowhere with the seemingly tranquil impulse toward
bludgeoning noisepower not seen since the years between Mezcal Head and Ejector Seat
Reservation in the white-hot feedback-racked shoegaze era. Swervedriver once demanded the head of the
fortune teller, and It Hugs Back—fuzzy band name notwithstanding—seem no less
bent upon mayhem.
It is the ghost of Swervedriver’s best song, a
six-minute-long tour de tunnel to hell
called “Duel” (off Mezcal Head) which
seems reanimated in the first track of Recommended
Record. “Sa Sa Sa Sails” pushes off
with what sounds like 13 or 14 guitars at maximum volume, and some of the
breathy vocals of the era. The fun
doesn’t end there: an utterly abused
piano and a put-away-wet organ weave through the din with the speed and abrupt direction
changes that imply outright panic. It all
amounts to two full earfuls, and it is thoroughly captivating.
Huge gets huger by second track “Go Magic!” which flavors
the insanity of the first track with the oversized tongue-in-cheek levity of
R.E.M.’s Monster. Vocals are distorted. Drums are expanded to the size of tractor
tires. And above and behind it all, a
vocal harmony floats like a chorus of Mike Millses. There is no eyeliner to be seen here, but
the effect is gloriously crushing for all of the two-plus minutes it exists.
“Sa Sa Sa Sails” and “Go Magic!” are a thunderous opening
volley, and they demand acquiescence, but this is in fact only a first movement
of a more elaborate design that subsequently leaves behind much of the wall of
sound. Emerging onto the hazy scorched
earth left behind after tracks 1 and 2 are pair of trance-y songs that are
startlingly different than that which preceded them. The substrate for both “Sometimes” and “Piano
Drone” are isolated keyboards; both hurry by at brisk tempos, and both sound
sparsely instrumented in the aftermath of the leadoff explosions.
“Piano Drone” in particular is initially so whittled down—it
is an instrumental, in fact, and it takes its sweet time adding layers of sound
to the mix—as to suggest the emergence of an entirely new life form,
post-apocalypse. The band, unlike a
baker’s dozen of 90’s shoegazer outfits, are obviously not beholden to a
solitary sonic shtick.
The oft-unmet challenge of this type of thing (this type of
thing being aggressive and loud, fairly non-lyrical “pop” music) is to become
and remain interesting without collapsing into the type of indulgence that
hurts or annoys the ears. To this
particular end, “Piano Drone” is probably the album’s statement piece. It is defiantly the least poppy track on the
album, but at no point does it labor or wheeze.
It is not until after another palate-cleansing,
landscape-clearing outburst (track 5, “Big Sighs,”) however, that Recommended Record lifts off in full
majestic glory, control panels blinking and myriad accessory gadgets humming to
life. It is remarkable stuff, actually,
how much brilliance is crammed into the second half of this album.
“Teenage Hands” brings together the album’s finest melody
with its finest vocal; it is a big and roughly-hewn track which nonetheless
ends up sounding expertly polished.
There are some wonderful moments here involving heaps of instruments
rushing in and bowing out, guitars and drums and (again) a rather well-wielded
organ all prowling the same space:
sometimes alternately, sometimes, thrillingly, all at once. It is a masterpiece of noise.
The very same devotion to creative and fluctuating sound
dynamics provides the fodder for follow-up track “Lower,” albeit via a markedly
different approach. This time around, a
dominant and just-shy-of-screeching guitar melody provides structure. This is all well enough until the song’s
release cascades gloriously through the 90-second mark: chimes ring out, the vocals breathe warmth
into the surrounds, and all of it takes shiny form atop the guitar work in the
best tradition of Some Cities-era
Doves.
By the time “Lower” fades away, the listener is exhausted,
spent. Not many albums do this
anymore: change shape and manner every
few tracks without tragic missteps or annoyingly contrived experiments. To vary, so well, in so little space, is expert-level
craft.
Which is, at it turns out, a good cue for the album’s black
swan event, and the track most likely to be mis-identified by artist when it
cues up randomly on anyone’s digital music shuffle years from now. “Waiting Room,” save for the same appealing
breathy vocals and occasional squalls of guitar, sounds entirely like the work
of some as-yet-unidentified organism; the guitar melody is decidedly acoustic,
and it is magically buttressed by soft keyboard work that owes much to the
1970s and early-solo Paul Simon. Moreover, the grooving repetition of the
melody comes interestingly close to some of the mellower moments of Phish-dom. As a song by this band, on this album: without precedent, and quite something to
behold.
The final two songs of Recommended
Record are, perhaps by necessity, a bit of anti-climax. Befitting the Greater Whole, however,
neither is tacked-on or shoddy. It is
the final track “Recommended Records,” in fact, when lyrical content most
clearly emerges from the overpowering glare of this album’s sounds, with
references to faded stars and statues, and the onward push of time. The parting sense is that It Hugs Back are
aware of history and familiar with the concept of legacy, and how both factor
into our attempts to create something larger than ourselves.
Larger than themselves:
Recommended Record frequently
sounds like the audible version of the world’s largest resort brunch
buffet. Senses are saturated; flavors
and impressions change every handful of minutes, and the vast majority of the
content is of the highest quality.
Maybe quirky, loud, irregular pop music like this is always doomed to
resemble a fading statue in 10 or 20 years.
Maybe Swervedriver’s is already crumbling a bit around the edges.
And maybe It Hugs Back know it. But while these songs thunder and hum past,
it doesn’t seem to matter.
Keepers 1-10
July 2013
