Sonic Youth Sister by: Joseph Coscarelli Mon:20-Aug-07 Label: SST Year: 1987 WB rating 87 out of 100

As the transformation approaches completion do not be frightened of things to come. A venture toward the unknown may very well come full circle, leaving off in an all the more familiar place. Through Confusion we saw light with the help of our Idols, but it did not pacify our uncertainties about change, and ultimately Death. The new Moon Rising meant a new day was to be born and EVOLve they did. Finally, emerging from the tunnel to bask in the light is a band fully representative of the American underground not content to idle in the pits of noise that spawned them, instead ripping to the surface, proudly flaunting a tried and true alternative bent but with their aim dead set on tradition. On Sister, Sonic Youth is a rock band but these are not your father's Stones. A head-busting racket without being "noise", tangential without losing focus and brutal but never menacing – this is structure unchained and without a cage.  

Ease them in, but never dumb it down goes the credo as 'Schizophrenia' begins gentle enough, cymbal-less but steady, providing the most spacious sonics Sister has to offer. Male lead Thurston Moore reminisces through the prism of mental health as straight strums build a moderate pace. The mood is nostalgic but eerily foreboding before female foil Kim Gordon descends to whisper veiled affirmations. "I could tuck you in/ And we can talk about it," she promises, and as the tension builds to a breaking point the dream begins in a woozy haze, the warmth of the analog tubes inviting you to come closer. Turn it up and take it in as the whipping drums of '(I Got A) Catholic Block' jump-start a looping riff and before you know it, screams come from the distance cementing the futility: you will not steal a breath. The atmosphere has become too dense and too encompassing, the guitar sound so domineering that it is only content to drag you along face-first.  

Gordon is haunting throughout, but never more-so than on 'Beauty Lies in the Eye' in which an acoustic guitar gives the impression of respite until Gordon's intensity bites like a vice grip, both sinister and sultry as she cat-calls: "Hey baby/ Hey sweetheart/ Hey fox, come here/ Hey beautiful/ Come here, sugar." Moore's energy plays counterpoint to Gordon's molasses delivery, excelling as set-up man to her most transfixing moments, but ready to jolt awake any semblance of serenity. The effectiveness of the tag-team vocal approach is tantamount only to the bipolarity of the instrumentation, harmonic passages shattered by colossal fits of fuzz and linear tunefulness doused in dissonance. 'Tuff Gnarl' finds Moore at his most melodic until the song's structure caves, burying all under an insurmountable noise-rock clamor. The opposite can be said for 'Pacific Coast Highway' as Gordon's discordant introduction parts like storm clouds to reveal a timely bout of accord.   
Essentially, Sister is an extended lesson in give and take. Be you one for Sonic Youth's punk twist ('Hot Wire My Heart'), noise-rock pedigree ('White Kross') or sludgy compromise ('Kotton Krush'), the whole is something more than the sum of its parts. To pull off what might be considered brazen or flagrant in any other context is to create a context of your own where becoming a seasoned rock band and incorporating more traditional structures does not mean an abandonment of roots but rather a rewriting of rules. Forays from pop to noise are far more than building a sandcastle only to stomp it down, they are an experiment in boundaries. And Sonic Youth show such adroit manipulation of this push and pull that by this point in their career, they have truly become the masters of their own destiny, rulebook in tow, pen in hand and pages blank.