| by Justin Pearsall | |
| Tue:03-Apr-07 | |
|
Review
While Blonde Redhead have slowly moved out of the underground scene with each new release, 23 is the album most likely to break the band to a wider audience. The ten tracks contained on the New York band’s seventh release are expertly matched, arranged and produced; the experience of their 14 years together evident everywhere on their new record. From the haunting and ethereal vocals of Kazu Makino, to the otherworldly mood of the instrumentation, the band work in unison, best serving the song and leaving any needless embellishments on the cutting room floor. Track number five, ‘Silently’, is an example of how they develop these retrospective moods. The low-tempo dance feel and breathy vocals bring a nostalgic shine reminiscent of the bad pop ballads you hear at dingy, over 28, retro nightclubs; making the song almost sound like a left-wing homage to Belinda Carlisle. But such a description does the open pop splendour of ‘Silently’ no justice. The melody is infectious, the backing instrumentation restrained and perfect, and when Makino sings: “Oh, sweat creature/I know exactly how you feel/Your clock is ticking/Tic-tac-ticking” it is clear that Blonde Redhead have developed to the stage where they can tackle sentiment, steering away from cliché and homage. Writing about the individual tracks of this album is like talking about brush strokes on a painting; 23 is for album lovers, each song contributes to the whole, allowing no filler. That said there are some notable highlights, including the split vocals of ‘Publisher’. The song opens with electro drums, the harmonies of Makino and Amedeo Pace, and ominous synth. By the conclusion we are amidst double time drums, walls of guitar and synth, and Pace’s derisive vocal delivery, “Say what you say/Say it like a cat/Say it to my face/And say what you know everyone says.” That we arrived here is unquestionable, how we so gradually reached this point is harder to decipher. Blonde Redhead’s ability to effortlessly reach heights such as these is derived from two aspects of their sound; the first being the aforementioned atmosphere, a warm soundscape created by the guitars and synths. The second is the willingness to hold back on choruses. The majority of the tracks on 23 prolong the first verse, allowing the music to take on a hypnotic quality before the hook of the chorus resolves, lifting the listener to somewhere else. ‘Dr Strangelove’, the second track of 23, is the strongest example of these traits. The Radiohead-esque arpeggios of Pace’s guitar are accentuated by Makino’s hovering voice, the dissonance of the verse eventually breaking into a warm, upbeat chorus. The true genius is in this decision to sparingly use the hook, the typical verse-chorus-verse-chorus-chorus structure abandoned, allowing the mood of the track to dominate.
Specific details like these are everywhere on 23; this being just one of the reasons why this is a great album – others can almost be rattled off in list like fashion: intelligent instrumentation, superb arrangements, eerie dual vocals, concise songs, and a sustained and developed mood. The only thing stopping 23 reaching classic status is its inability to abandon its mood and lose itself, leading the listener somewhere unexpected, leaving them in awe – the trumpet solo of ‘SW’; an arrangement that hints at George Martin’s work on the later Beatles material, being the only real example of this occurring. |






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