I adore the idea of concept albums. Maybe it’s because they are so often space or fantasy based, and that’s my jam, or because such albums have the potential to be cohesive works with little filler. The latest album by Cloakroom, Dissolution Wave, indeed finds the band in spacey territory, unspooling the story over eight sublime tracks.
Together for ten years, Cloakroom’s members include Doyle Martin on guitar and lead vocals, Bobby Markos on bass, and Tim Remis on drums and vocals. Additional piano and loops come from Matt Talbott of Hum, which makes sense given that band’s influence on the heavy shoegaze genre. The trio is from Indiana and while their shoegaze sound is right at home in a Midwestern winter, their newest record reaches for a more interstellar medium.
I honestly cannot phrase the concept of this album better than the band themselves, so here (from their Bandcamp) is their description: “a space western in which an act of theoretical physics—the dissolution wave—wipes out all of humanity’s existing art and abstract thought. In order to keep the world spinning on its axis, songsmiths must fill the ether with their compositions. Meanwhile, the Spire and Ward of Song act as a filter for human imagination: Only the best material can pass through the filter and keep the world turning.” If that sounds too prog-rock, allow me to reassure you: the album is a perfectly paced, well-constructed heavy shoegaze journey through these themes, never bloated or overblown, and not so full of itself that it loses focus on what is important — the music.
It’s not the first time that Cloakroom has looked to the stars: previous releases include “Deep Space Station” (2018) and Time Well (2017). Fans of the complex, dense sound established on those records will not be disappointed by Dissolution Wave, which sees the band evolve even further. The music is heavy without being bogged down, with airy moments serving as a counterpoint. They kick right into their familiar driving crunch on the intro track “Lost Meaning,” one big drum hit preceding the full might of the band. Over the course of the record, the guitars weave through the mix yet never sound meandering; rather, every instrument (and vocal) here has a destination. Some unexpected notes and chord changes here and there keep the tracks from bleeding into each other. Much of the ‘spacey’ quality is provided by the vocals of Martin (full disclosure: I had some trouble picking out the lyrics on this record) while the thick basslines pin everything together under asteroids-crashing drums.
At times they flirt with poppier melodies, like on “A Force At Play,” but never long enough to leave the sludge behind (and that’s a good thing). Highlight tracks for me were “Lost Meaning,” “Dottie-back Thrush,” and “Lambspring.” I appreciate that the album ends on a solid note; as I was first listening I assumed the relatively lighter “Doubts” would be the last track (it has that sort of quality), and was then surprised by the opening chords of “Dissembler.” It’s a perfect conclusion statement: Cloakroom are not content to be a ‘fade-into-the-background” kind of shoegaze band. Rather, they are ready to fill the ether with a full-out aural assault to keep the world spinning. Dissolution Wave* is an album that will please immediately, with repeat spins revealing the nuances.
*(I wondered if the phrase “dissolution wave” was taken from a real concept in physics, hit Google, and after staring at the abstract for “Pit-Induced Electrochemical Layer Dissolution and Wave Propagation on an Au(111) Surface in an Acidic Thiourea Solution” by Lianqun Li, et al. in The Journal of Physical Chemistry for several minutes I concluded physics is not my game and went back to the music.)
Some might call a release of seven tracks an EP, but there was a time in music history that seven songs could be considered an album, and Climates’ debut album Movie Magic definitely feels like one. The trio, consisting of Theadora Curtis (lead vocals and bass,) Molly Schoen (guitar) and Keira Zhou (drums) have been together since late 2019, and now have a perfect lineup of tightly wound songs bookended by a fitting opener and closer, packed with meat in the middle.
Self-described as “glitter grunge,” the band mixes lovely harmonious vocals with fuzz and grit. Curtis’ airy vocals show a maturity and cleverness along with the harmonies. Rather than being pure echo, the vocals are layered over a driving mix of guitars and a solid bottom end. The deft, wandering lead guitar accents never overshadow the other instruments and blend into the vocals like another singer. (I am interested in seeing them live and how they treat the mix here as a three-piece.)
Musically, there is not much rest, although there are some quiet spaces where the drums and bass can show off. My personal favorites were the songs “Prize,” “End of Nights,” and “Doves.”
J. Robbins may be best known as the frontman of Jawbox, but the list of projects he has led and been involved with stretches much longer than that. His work began with Government Issue in the 80s and continued long after Jawbox ended in 1997, seeing him create albums with Burning Airlines, Channels, and Office of Future Plans, as well as building a successful career as a recording engineer and producer.
In 2019, Jawbox returned to the stage for the first time since the late 90s and saw Robbins release his first solo album simply under his own name, Un-becoming, on Dischord Records. Now he’s back with another solo track, “Uncle John,” this time one side of a split single on New Granada Records. Fans of his past work and solo debut should enjoy this as well, with Robbins’ signature melodic yell kicking off the song immediately. Personally, I’m a big fan of the vocal mixing here. The rest of the space is filled completely with driving guitars punctuated by rapid fire snare, courtesy of Peter Moffett (Robbins’ bandmate in Burning Airlines who also played on the solo LP) for a perfect slice of post-hardcore.
J. Robbins performing in 2019 (photo by Kate Hoos)
The other side of the split is “Certain As” by Her Head’s On Fire, a group made up of members of Saves the Day, the Bomb, Small Brown Bike and Garrison. The track is no less energetic musically, even with a few parts that trend slightly towards… dare I say sludgey? There are ample opportunities for headbanging here, interspersed with heartfelt hand-on-heart choruses.
The 7-inch single is available from New Granada in a limited quantity of 300, along with the digital version at Bandcamp.
I Could Cry Right Now If You Wanted Me To album cover (photo by Jessica Gurewitz)
The debut album from Brooklyn-based band Razor Braids has been several years in the making. Hollye Bynum, the lead vocalist and bassist, taught herself to play in 2017 after being confined to bed with an injury and put together the band over the next couple of years. Their debut single “Nashville” was ready to go by 2020; unfortunately, as many bands did, they encountered difficulty during the pandemic, having to downgrade their single release to a livestream from an anticipated show at Baby’s All Right and cancel their planned East Coast tour.
Razor Braids refused to be daunted, and used the positive response to their single as the impetus to record their debut full-length, I Could Cry Right Now If You Wanted Me To. Like many indie-punk bands who look back to the 90’s, Razor Braids have embraced the gospel of fuzz and melodic, layered vocals. Yet they keep that fuzz and vocals from turning into a totally distracting wall of sound, sometimes by backing off, at other times by employing a different mix in the left/right channels to split things up.
Rather than simply alternating lyrics and lead, Janie Peacock’s guitar lines often continue underneath. Jilly Karande is on rhythm, and there is a nice interplay between the two guitars. Having a bassist sing is always a treat in my opinion (I’m biased) and Bynum doesn’t fight against herself when playing, but also doesn’t keep it too simple, laying down a pleasing rhythm section along with drummer Hannah Nichols, who also offers beat changes to keep you engaged. There is even a bit of country twang on songs like ”I’m A Blackhole (and you’ll never get out)” and “42,” the epic closer.
“Not Dead, Not Yet,” the intro track, features a good thumping beat to draw listeners in. “No, I’m not dead, not quite, not yet,” the lyrics assert. Throughout the album, from “Sex In The City” (”we all have our places to hide”) and “White Noise Machine” (“turn on my white noise machine, too scared of what’s in my head”) there is a sense of working through something, especially regarding relationships. And maybe they haven’t reached a solution, but as the title indicates, perhaps Razor Braids could cry, but they don’t seem ready to give up yet.
Razor Braids performing in 2019 (photo by Kate Hoos)
For me, the highlights are “Not Dead, Not Yet, “I’m A Blackhole,” “Boy,” and “White Noise Machine.” I must credit the band for excellent tracklisting on this album; they don’t allow for dead spots, and the opening and closing tracks are perfect bookends.
The band has spoken of their connection as a group and the power of female friendship, and that connection definitely comes across in how tightly-knit the music is. Their Instagram bio says “just a few gals who need some fucking help,” but Razor Braids seems to be helping each other out just fine.
I Could Cry Right Now If You Wanted Me To is available now on all streaming platforms.
When I think sludge I don’t immediately expect to hear synths, and perhaps that’s short-sighted of me. Leechwife certainly has a modern take on it, mixing up psych, industrial, post-punk, and all manner of the many facets of metal for an all out aural assault. When I’m lost for words, I like to fall back on band’s own descriptors, and in the case of Nebulae And Debris, their latest release, “heavy lysergic chaos” certainly fits the bill.
The solo project of singer and musician Lilith Grace, Leechwife is based in Columbus, Ohio and has put out several self-released albums before this, although this is their first full-length on a label (the Denver-based Pyramid Inversion Act.) According to Grace, Nebulae And Debris is a “surreal sci-fi concept album” which features a protagonist who “journeys across an entropic universe.” I’d say the record succeeds in meeting that vibe. Backed by sharp marching drum machines and throbbing bass, leads are mostly handled by the aforementioned synths — sometimes airy, at other times almost wounded — and guitars, which tilt from angrily distorted to surf-textured. Grace has also included more unusual-to-metal instruments such as oud, banjo, and balalaika, Grace’s vocals run the gamut from a confident shout to Sabbath-like melodies to a growling scream, all against a backdrop of what could easily pass as boss music from an NES game, albeit recorded on a spaceship.
There are several instrumentals which serve to break up the more intense vocal driven tracks, and give the listener a short pause to take a breath. They contribute to the spaced-out intention of the concept, and are also useful for variety; even with so much going on in each song, some of the tracks can blend together. That’s not necessarily a strike against the album, however, as it makes for a cohesive, trippy work. The intended first single is “Take This And Be Wire To God’s Throat,” which along with “Lunar War Herd” and “Observation Murmuration” are the stand out tracks for me. (Extra points for sick song titles throughout this record, honestly.)
Nebulae And Debris came out on cassette 12/6/21 on Pyramid Inversion Act, and can be ordered at Leechwife’s Bandcamp, as well as purchased digitally, or streamed at Spotify.
