Modest Mouse: The Golden Casket Album Review
Time is now part of the Modest Mouse process. At the start of the group’s peak, they released three monumental albums in five years – long, sprawling records, seemingly limited only by CD capacity – as well as treasures of great EPs, rarities and odds and ends. . But after “Float On” elevated them to alternative rock’s A-list, the tap slowed down. It took the band eight years to complete the 2015s Strangers to ourselves, and although Isaac Brock promised another album “as soon as legally possible”, it took them another six years to complete. The golden coffin.
Even more than Strangers to ourselves, The golden coffin never tries to pretend it was recorded at one time or one place – a band that once worked in frenzied inspiration puffs now prefers prolonged, unhurried DIY. But unlike Foreigners, which was Modest Mouse’s debut album with no new things to say or new ways of saying them, Coffin has unique sounds to show off for all of his slow cooking experiments. It is one of the most luxuriously textured works of the group, a procession of scathing, reverberating and reverberating tactile pleasures. From the start, Brock pledged not to play any guitar on the record, and while he ended up playing it, the instrument’s frequent absence frees up an inventive space filled with percussion and instrument treasure. obscure and vintage.
The album’s credits meticulously list each musician’s contributions down to their finger snaps, as this is the kind of record that differentiates the sounds of different fingers. On one song, band member Tom Peloso is credited with playing “Fun Machine, piano, mini Korg and Crumar”; on another, Brock plays not only banjo and melodica, but also vibraslap, spacephone, and “soft drink percussion” (these are soda cans). Even if you can’t place the vibraslap, the specificity of the texture helps these studio concoctions conjure up a number of real or imagined settings: an Archie McPhee warehouse, a 1980s CAM Schwarz, the dumpster behind the The price is right soundstage, Danny Elfman’s playroom.
As usual, Brock’s songs are a strange mixture of forced optimism and unforced paranoia. On the chipper side, there are a few easy-drinking radio singles including “The Sun Hasn’t Left” driven by marimba and drum machine. “Lace Your Shoes,” an unusually serious love letter to Brock’s children, is the most sentimental song he has ever written. But he always looks more believable on dark stuff, and The golden coffin becomes dark. Between mostly tame bangs on selfies and online dating and calls to hang up every now and then (“Just being here now is enough for me,” he repeats as a sort of transcendental mantra on “Wooden Soldiers” ), he centers the album on the anti-tech manifesto “Transmitting Receptive”, the darkest and most overwhelming music he has recorded since. The Moon and Antarctica.
The song’s verses come in the form of long, spoken lists of devices and forces that may or may not be transmitted directly to our skulls (“Computers, clocks, drones, clones, trees and rods / Moles and trolls, lights to four-way stops ”). In interviews, Brock modestly called the “tin foil hat” section of the album “Transmitting Requirement”, but he also insisted that “this is probably the most important shit I have ever seen. wrote, “reiterating belief in V2K, the individuals targeted, and gang stalking — convictions often associated with mental illness. Like all songs that raise concerns for the well-being of their creators, it’s hard listening, but in a roundabout way, it reinforces The golden coffinthe thesis. On an album about the dangers of the Internet, Brock highlighted many conspiracies he almost certainly picked up online.
What The golden coffin He’s missing the kind of contagious earworm that made Modest Mouse the mainstay of radio. There is no “Float On” here. There is not even a “dashboard”. But the album rewards the time and patience it requires in a way the last couple didn’t. Even songs that will disappoint at first, like the booming debut single “We Are Between,” the band in its most commercial form from Coors, have a way of opening up to repeated plays, revealing loose threads and teasing. all the different ways they could have been knotted. Modest Mouse will never again be able to bottle the explosive impulsiveness of Lonely crowded west, but they are improving so that their polished edges feel like a fair substitute for the rough old ones.
Buy: Gross trade
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