Distile continues to put out thoughtful, complex music by some of the most talented math-rock bands around. This time, it's the band Planets from California. For a French label, Distile seems to be grabbing up the best bands of this genre from all over the place.
Bookended by the songs "In" and "Out," this self-titled debut album from the duo of Paul Slack and Thomas Crawford amazes. I had listened to it a number of times before I read the band's bio and was learned that it consists of only two musicians and that the instruments are bass and "not bass," by which the band seems to mean primarily "drums." The sound is full and full of surprises. It's like Crom-Tech for bass. It's like Lightning Bolt in intensity, dexterity, and adaptability.
The 12 songs consist of instrumentals, with occasional spoken words buried away. While most of the tracks want to give you whiplash, there exist brief moments of relief from the onslaught. "Dude Life" intersperses some toned-down passages of a repeating loop of... um... something. Lead cut "In" has some squeaks and squawks, some blips and machine-sounding noises, that sound pacific in the context of the rest of the album. Its atmospherics do not prepare you for the rest of the album.
The songs generally move from idea to idea, passage to passage, in linear patterns. They dispense with chorus and verse, but you probably weren't expecting traditional structures from players this talented. These two musicians probably get bored playing the same thing for more than a few seconds, almost literally. "Free Ranger," its title alone giving away the song's intentions and direction, and "Vow of Silence" are remarkable in their agility. But then, the same could be said for "Steps," "To Think," and the others.
Finally, "Out" sounds like Primus scoring a videogame soundtrack. It's short, and it's almost comical against the breakneck craziness everywhere else.
The CD's handmade packaging is remarkable as well. Its burlap-like casing, lovingly stitched together, is unlike any packaging I've come across.
Math-rock like this probably appeals to a relatively narrow slice of the listening public. Musicians will appreciate its complexity and its players' abilities. Fans of the more aggro bands like The Locust will probably go for it also, even if it doesn't exhibit quite the same kind of catharsis. And as much as it's an album to be appreciated cerebrally, I'd wager that it's best seen performed live. Catch them if you can. (in Delusions of Adequacy)
***
Allow me to make a sweeping generalization about my (few and probably bespectacled) readers: You have used music to speak for you when no meaningful words come to mind. Filmmakers use music to convey mood and set scenes. Away messages (mine definitely included) have become more and more cryptic due to the overuse of lyrical content. Sometimes I feel guilty for letting others speak for me, especially when I claim to be (at least to my parents) a "prose powerhouse." My increased appreciation of instrumental music has not only inspired me to look deeper into my surroundings, but it has also taught me to never miss opportunities to put my own spin on things. When artists leave out the words, I can search for their song’s meaning and, most importantly, my meaning. The two-way musical street becomes a musical freeway. So if I interpret “Free Ranger” as being about the hurt one feels after being abandoned by friends, then I can say so (just listen to the guitars smashing around in the lower register and tell me that doesn’t say, “Remember me, jerks?”). The band may even disagree with such an assessment, but it’s my God-given right as an American to believe in any falsities that I hold as truth-ities. So there.
I guess you could say my head is in a weird place right now. Which is perfect since Planets is quite odd. Consisting of only two members, Paul Slack plays bass and Thomas Crawford plays “not bass,” the band creates short, math-rock pieces that send the mind wandering. Planets utilize pedals, loops, occasional gang-shouting and a ferociousness that is not ideal for everyday listening. I would strongly warn you against putting Planets on if, on her way to your car, your friend Nancy was humming “No One” by Alicia Keys.
Author Note: There was a 45-minute break between the above paragraph and the one that follows; I was too busy sticking my nose up in the air at all popular music.
When first playing “O People,” one might expect Thomas Erak to start shrieking a totally awesome pun over the we-hate-time signatures guitar playing. Quick strums and rugged, growling bass dominate each song. Rather than TFOT, though, Planets resemble a melding of SWIMS (where Paul Slack also plays bass) and Tera Melos. Though, and this is really saying something, Planets is more freeform than both. “Vow Of Silence” calms things down with light shouting/whispering and then comes back in with impressively simple drumming by Crawford. His ability to interchange the strange for the predictable on a moment’s notice never gets any less impressive. “Exorcize!” would be the prototypical Planets song if such a thing existed. The bass leads an assault of grunge and the drums somehow keep up while still painting new portraits of sound. (Hint: close your eyes). That sentence looks like a joke coming from me, but it’s not. Amazing things happen on this record.
In some ways I feel as though I have wasted my time writing this review. No words of mine are going to adequately do Planets justice (which seems to be a recurring them with me lately). Basically, if you have an aptitude for highly experimental, jazz-oriented, prog-math-rock (and who doesn’t), this one is surely worth your time.
If Planets become any sort of trendsetters, we are in for quite an alarming/awesome/mind-boggling year. (in AbsolutePunk)
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