Album Review: Dead Poet Society - "-!-"

 

There was a time when ‘alternative’ meant something.  The Stooges, occasionally theorized as the first ‘alternative’ band, were so named because they were not quick rock and not quite punk, and thus were labelled with an altogether new term, announcing them as quite literally an alternative to either of those common cores.  Eventually, ‘alternative’ came to mean a genre all of its own, with its own conventions and hang-ups and devotees, and ultimately, lifespan.  Fast forward some years after the popular death of alternative, and the word has been reclaimed back to its original meaning.  Thus we find Dead Poet Society and their album “-!-.” Meet the new alternative.

Dead Poet Society reminds in many ways of the versatility and variability of last year’s excellent Mollo Rilla album “Viva El Camino,” with the notable and important exception that DPS replaces the alcohol-infused, jaunty swagger with a dire, broken-glass heroin trip, which is meant as a compliment.  The scary, shambling thud of “.SALT.” is so deep with bass as to bring memories of Soundgarden’s “4^th of July,” and the lyrical content is just as sparse and haunting.

The dichotomy of the thin vocals of Jack Underkofler against the backdrop of a churning, guitar blast furnace is the real story with “-!-“ and both parts are necessary if the album is to have its intended teeth.  When Underkofler chooses to go into the dark spaces, there is a genuine feeling of discomfort, a tangible unsettling of the nerves as the band thuds out power chords while his vocals feel lithium-high, like a singer from a different song, disaffected and disassociated with the band behind him.  Yet, as with the album’s star cut “.intoodeep.,” it’s impossible to imagine what that alternate song could sound like.  The performance is like a piece from another puzzle that happens to fit into this one masterfully.

For all the experimentation and unique aural combinations of the album, the dirty secret here is that Dead Poet Society has pulled entire chapters out of the old alternative playbook.  That’s not an insult – it’s a testament to a level of study and mastery that few bands with so little popular history can employ.  Closing the eyes and concentrating, it’s not so hard to strip the jagged distortion and profanity from “.burymewhole.” and hear a song that would feel just as at home on a Toadies record. 

Now, a lot of that comes from the band’s skillful placement of infectious, singalong choruses.  Most of the songs lyrically detail some manner of grisly consequence, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to string together a few lines that would be easy to chant at a show once the world is open again.  The slow build “.getawayfortheweekend.” serves all the better to allow for the catharsis of a high-speed chorus.  Following the song through its motions is akin to getting on and off the highway repeatedly – up to speed, slow down on the ramps, up to speed again.  It’s an agitated ride for sure, but as we’ve discussed, “-!-“ balances on the atom-thin edge of frayed nerves for its entire duration.

As is part and parcel with alternative rock albums, there are a couple of throwaway ballads; others will no doubt laud them for their sincerity and earnest expression of confused, youthful emotion, but there’s nothing to be said about them that hasn’t been said about any ballad or emotional tune written by a rock artist over the last seventy years.  There are as they are – a necessary change of pace on the album?  Sure, why not. And while there’s nothing wrong with that, those same songs also fit much more cleanly into the common molds of alternative rock, so it’s also the limit of the weight they can carry.

There may end up being some territorial pissing here – rock fans may say the album is theirs, and same goes for metal fans and alternative fans, the last of whom had been presumed dead for much of the last decade.  More likely, as the fans of those genres are fit to do, there will be arguments for why “-!-“ ISN’T a welcome addition to their genre’s stable.  Those arguments are myopic and frankly stupid, and miss the point of creative music as an experience.  

All that is said to say this; in the last fifteen months or so, there’s been a creeping tide of bands who are completely oblivious to the mores of genre convention, and that same rising crest has been absolutely to the benefit of music listeners everywhere.  The best moments in the discovery of new music are when a listener can say “I haven’t heard someone do that before,” and this is the same lofty space we find Dead Poet Society occupying.  Add in the fact that this marks the band’s full-length debut, and “-!-“ is not only one worth adding to the shelves, but an optimistic harbinger of the band’s future.

Album Review: Faith No More - "Sol Invictus"

For more than a decade, Faith No More fell silent as the world at large and the world of music raged around them.  Fans wondered why their favorite band was so conspicuously absent, how the members couldn’t find the wherewithal to get back together and provide some sense to a changing digital landscape.  Now, seemingly in the fashion of most pop culture these days, the influential alt-musicians have come back into vogue, though rather than a ‘hey, remember when’ sentiment, new album “Sol Invictus” seems to be the continued extension of Faith No More’s voice rather than just a re-tread.

The one difficulty of properly reporting and judging any Faith No More project is that one has to factor out the overwhelming pressure applied by the boisterous and relentless Cult of Mike Patton; those fans who vehemently believe that the entirety of Patton’s prodigious and plentiful career is completely above critical reproach.

A large part of the intrigue of “Sol Invictus,” as it has been so many times when Faith No More is involved, is the variety of presentation.  There’s a veritable circus of different tropes and styles, from the repetitive punch of “Superhero” to the pop-rock of “Black Friday.”  Patton and company (and the company part is not to be undersold,) play comfortably in a variety of styles of tropes, giving the listener more for their money.  The album manages to invite all listening styles and tastes, which is a welcome change in an era where every artists is expected to stick to one idiom.

The flip side of that coin is that “Sol Invictus” lacks in cohesion.  There’s very little sense of flow to the record, as disparate sounds will crash haphazardly into one another.  There’s a certain amount of this to be expected among any of the progenitors of alternative music as it began in the ‘90s, but this record is particularly mercurial.  The strung out funk of “Sunny Side Up” launches headlong into the grimy grunge of “Separation Anxiety” without regard for what the transition is.  Secondarily, it’s hard to determine what the singles on this album are.  The concept of ‘single’ is no doubt blurred in this digital era, but it still stands to reason that there are songs which stand out from the others and there’s no individual track that shows enough of a complete concept to be marketed as the album’s anchor.



As with many Patton projects, there’s a certain cloud of smarm that has to be acknowledged saturating much of the album.  It’s hard to listen to “Sol Invictus” and not hear it, whether Patton is singing about being ‘your leprechaun’ or belting out the seemingly earnest chorus of an entire song called “Motherfucker.”  Longtime fans have come to embrace this particular quality as part of the larger Faith No More experience, but newcomers or those trying again for the first time in a long time will need to either accept or ignore if they wish to assimilate the entire production.
That said, “Sol Invictus” has many solid parts, as the slow churn that develops out of “Cone of Shame” and the haunting jingle of “Rise of the Fall” both rise to the occasion and create immersive listening.  In a rare twist, the album is actually better when the musicians involved throw away a lot of their window dressing and simply write good songs.  In this case, substance reigns significantly over style.

So in the end, there is plenty of substance on “Sol Invictus,” it’s just that it’s easier to treat the record as a collection of distant ideas than a singular whole.  Not unlike many Primus records, this album can be a confusing listen if attempting to travel one end to the other, but it’s not a bad ride if you take it in short bursts.