The best new albums this week
The top drawer albums of the week
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
Teen Suicide – Honeybee Table At The Butterfly Feast (Run For Cover)
Lo-fi indie auteur, Sam Ray, has become an integral, somewhat controversial staple of the scene over the past decade. With an expansive palette for soundscapes, and painfully honest, often beautifully poetic lyrics unfurling his own struggles with heroin addiction, the loss of friends to the same strife, as well as appreciation for his mother and his wife; Ray has expressed and learned much through his myriad of projects.
From the acoustic folk of Julia Brown to the ambient club house of Ricky Eat Acid, there’s never been a style Ray couldn’t adapt to his desired form of expression.
It all began with Teen Suicide, however; an indie/emo project that’s evolved over the years to encompass any and all sonic whims, even changing its name to American Pleasure Club for their last two full-lengths. Where 2019’s, ‘Fucking Bliss’, was a brief, dour, previously shelved work of ambient, harsh noise and drone pieces, crafted during a particularly harrowing period, the preceding 2018 triumph, ‘A Whole Fucking Lifetime Of This’, was regarded by many to be the most visualised completion of Ray’s disparate vision to date.
‘Honeybee Table At The Butterfly Feast’ is the first album under the Teen Suicide moniker since 2016’s expansive opus, ‘It’s The Big Joyous Celebration, Let’s Stir The Honeypot’, and it’s arguably the closest Ray has come to that sprawling mess of emotions since.
Returning to the fuzzed out, dissonant jangle of his earlier material, whilst imbuing the melodies with equal moments of lush art-pop and walls of oppressive noise, there’s a desperation screeching (figuratively and literally) through the manic hooks of, ‘Death Wish’, or, the lethargic meandering of, ‘New Strategies For Telemarketing Through Precognitive Dreams’.
While there’s still the obligatory acoustic-led anti-folk sincerity of old found on gentle cuts such as, ‘I Will Always Be In Love With You (Final)’, as well as the mega compressed, lo-fi indie-pop of, ‘You Can’t Blame Me’; a cut very reminiscent of the early, ‘DC Snuff Film’ days, there’s still ample room for more avant-garde experimentation, like the industrial, caustic chaos of, ‘Violence, Violence’; echoing the darkest corners of Ray’s expansive discography.
For as typically dynamic and expansive as any project from Ray guarantees to be, there’s a notable cohesion tempered across these 16 tracks. The dichotomy of the juxtaposed sonics coalesce in a slightly less disparate manner, possibly reflective of the more structured, positive surroundings Ray now finds his adulthood settled within. For all intents, clichés and purposes, ‘Honeybee…’ is the sound of Teen Suicide growing up and calming down, but very much at its own pace.
ZB
Silverstein – Misery Made Me (UNFD)
Candian post-hardcore stalwarts, Silverstein, serve as a shining example of age not entirely equating to youth. Formed in 2000, as in, the turn of the new millennium; the band have maintained an avid following and legacy due to their stringent focus, malleability and willingness to evolve whilst never losing sight of the original mission statement laid out over two decades prior.
‘Misery Made Me’, their eleventh full-length, is an emo Jackon Pollock painting come to audible life with its meshing of hardcore, anthemic pop-punk and screamo motifs. Following on from 2020’s criminally overlooked, ‘A Beautiful Place to Drown’, the material here pushes the seasoned veterans’ dynamic even further into aggressive territory.
Maintaining respect and adoration for contributors to the scene, past and present, just like on its predecessor, the guest features here are an impressive amalgam of the many branches of the modern punk tree. There’s a notable dynamic ranging from Andrew Neufeld of hardcore punk heroes Comeback Kid (on the vicious ‘Die Alone’), and Mike Hranica of metalcore mainstays The Devil Wears Prada (on the hefty, groove-laden, ‘Slow Motion’) to more current acts who grew up on albums like ‘Discovering The Waterfront’, and, ‘Arrivals & Departures’.
The emotive clarity of, ‘Cold Blood’, boasts a lush appearance from rising emo-hip-hop artist, Trevor Daniel, while the slow crawl from fragility to venom on the standout, ‘Live Like This’, offers emo-trap genre classist, nothing, nowhere., an opportunity to showcase his vast array of influences and vocal nuances.
Not to simply rest on the laurels of collaborators, the remainder of cuts here sway with zero warning from earworm hooks to caustic abrasion, like on the euphoric bounce of, ‘Ultraviolet’, or the trudging breakdown at the backend of the visceral highlight, ‘Bankrupt’.
This many albums into their 20+ year tenure, a band like Silverstein owe the masses very little, yet still opt to deliver time and time again. ‘Misery Made Me’ isn’t just the sound of a group refusing to slow down, but a reminder of why their name still garners major credence regardless of what circle or timeframe of the scene one finds themselves.
ZB
ELLES – A Celebration Of The Euphoria Of Life (Naive)
ELLES follows up on a series of inspired appearances on the likes of Love On The Rocks and Ears Have Eyes with her searingly honest debut album, ‘A Celebration Of The Euphoria Of Life’.
The London-based artist has been deeply entrenched in the esoteric underground for many a year: first absorbing and now gloriously beaming refracted light into and beyond clubland’s smokiest, strobe-lit corners. If her rise from blogging enthusiast to informed selector was hard-fought, her dazzling entry into production realms has been nothing short of meteoric. With her first solo EP arriving as recently as 2019, both the scope and execution of her debut album are genuinely staggering.
ELLES’ eyes-closed navigation of the elation and jeopardy of weekend hedonism manifested through an evolving topography of expertly-crafted beats and synthetic textures; garnished with candid field recordings; projected deep into the core via her softly penetrating vocal performance. Mutating rhythms reflect the unending breadth of the UK music landscape, from the two-step syncopation of ‘Out Of The Office’ to the unrelenting four/four of climactic club moment ‘Anthem’.
Psychedelic swirls and unfiltered narcotic jabber land like tilted satire on the gorgeously aberrant ‘Toilet Talk’, while the corrupted garage grind and jagged strings of ‘Dry Ur Tears’ hint at rapture’s impending descent. ELLES soul is laid bare here, her unflinching honesty and biting awareness cutting through unending waves of hallucinatory fog. Twisted melodies and unnerving serenades are swallowed by snarling synths and disorienting sweeps on the impeccably-formed ‘Candyflip 69’, before the electro-allure of ‘Sex’ sees untethered animalistic encounters proposed in simple terms. Honeyed precision, confidently uncertain, elevated and then hollowed out.
ELLES takes us on an inverted night flight through gloriously fractured encounters and ungraspable experiences, finally finding comfort in the opioid embrace and sumptuous harmonies of ‘Afterglo’. Home now, the mind rests in the shape-shifting residue of another lost weekend.
PC
Oso Oso – Sore Thumb (Triple Crown)
Oso Oso, the brainchild of one, Jade Lilitri, has become a name synonymous with today’s emo movement. Combining indie-folk acoustics with jangling pop-punk, all delivered with a sharp wit only equalled by sincerity; there’s a certain charm that’s elevated the Long Island, New York based project to a height far beyond their peers.
2019’s breakout third full-length, ‘Basking In The Glow’, found itself on many an end of year list, while landing on new label home Triple Crown appeared a perfect fit. In the interim since this new signing and acclaimed project, Lilitri’s friend and collaborator, Tavish Maloney, tragically passed last year at the young age of 24.
This newfound exposure coupled with such a terrible loss could have had numerous negative effects on the artist, the art, and the human being behind it all. Many could have expected, ‘Sore Thumb’, to not materialise at all, or wind up a dour affair haunted by grief. Instead, Lilitri opts to search for the harmony in the bedlam.
Opener, ‘Computer Exploder’, is a perfect indicator of the channelled pain and grief, hidden behind a sugary hook and brightened delivery. It’s the anthemic joy with which Lilitri proclaims, “Yeah, it’s fine if the love and the money run out, if the drugs run out, I’ll die”, that we begin to see the process of acceptance in all of its ugly forms.
From there, we take detour upon detour across the American landscape, as well as through anecdotes of questionable figures deserving reappraisal. The pleading defence of, ‘Father Tracy’, the hazy trip to, ‘Pensacola’, the yearning to, ‘Describe You’, all paint a scatter-brained audible image of one’s attempts to process such life changes and personal loss while touring, traversing and internalising.
By the time the acoustic emo-folk atmospherics of, ‘Carousel’, come to a close, you can’t help but feel closer to Lilitri, like a friend who’s just opened up to you in a way like they never have before, nor will again. You appreciate the opportunity to see the man behind the man, but also hope they’re finding their way out of the din through espousing these struggles.
ZB
Worm Shepherd – Ritual Hymns (Unique Leader)
Massachusetts based symphonic deathcore brutalisers, Worm Shepherd, made quite the statement of intent with their 2020 debut, ‘In the Wake ov Sòl’. Utilising the blueprint set out by genre outliers such as Abigail Williams and Winds Of Plague almost two decades prior, and more recently popularised by Lorna Shore; the five-piece push their brutality into extreme territories while maintaining moments of sonic serenity.
Their sophomore effort, ‘Ritual Hymns’, builds upon the atmosphere of its predecessor with a weary, theatrical sense of nihilism. Epic centrepieces such as, ‘Blood Kingdom’, swell with melodious grandeur, trading orchestral keys with obliterating breakdowns, and fractured, claustrophobic barrages of percussion.
Elsewhere, cuts like, ‘A Bird In The Dusk’, elevate proceedings to a level of spectacle only tangentially approached on their previous effort. Blackened metallics are circumvented with death metal heft and hardcore energy, yet all unified under a banner of near operatic nuance. Even, the slow build of, ‘The Ravens Keeps’, from muted hues to sanguine symmetry conjures audible images of questing for tranquillity amidst a barren landscape of malevolence.
While label-home, Unique Leader, continues to stoke the fires of the once maligned deathcore scene for the modern, more accepting age; it’s hard to deny the sheer gravitas and artistry Worm Shepherd imbue their material with, setting them leagues apart from surroundings peers, on their current roster and further afield.
ZB
Moundabout – Flowers Rot, Bring Me Stones (Rocket Recordings)
Emerging from the fog of knotty psychedelia that is the Gnod collective, Moundabout takes a stride into its own space with this debut album on Rocket Recordings. The project finds core Gnod member Paddy Shine teaming up with Los Langeros’ Phil Masterson for a foray into wyrd folk with mysticism in its bones and only scant threads of traditional music practice guiding their untrodden path. With inspiration drawing from Ireland’s Neolithic passage tombs, it’s an endeavour which calls to mind the work orbiting Folklore Tapes and the Mac-Talla Nan Craeg releases on Firecracker, where ancient rites and a disregard for established musical norms get folded into an unnerving but deeply rooted amalgam that sits somewhere outside of time.
Moundabout first materialised on the North Cairn cassette for Tesla Tapes in 2020, but now makes a more pronounced manifestation on this record, guided by Masterson’s banjo which defines the shape of the songs. It sounds as though both Masterson and Shine sing in tandem, their earthy Irish tones carrying mantras which lope over the rhythm of the lightly treated chords in a circular fashion which dissolves the meter in a pointedly trancelike manner.
“How many bog bodies are lying in the ground… waiting to be found?” they ask, positively invoking long buried spirits to share their secrets. On this particular track, the banjo gets fed through a filter of frosted glass which is far from the traditional patina of folk music, and yet the spectral quality feels more appropriate for the séance than any plaintive acoustic sound could hope to muster. Meanwhile, the lower register chants take on a menacing, borderline schlocky, quality which draws a line to Coil’s neo-pagan incantations, and just as unsettling it is, too.
For the full submission to Moundabout’s vision of modern ritual for ancient mysteries, ‘Dick Dalys Dance’ is on hand with 12 minutes of eerie percussive rotation and the groans of sprites obscured by the veil dividing the living world from the void beyond. It’s as though the summoning and conjuring has paid off, with Masterson and Shine missing in action and leaving behind a gaping portal with ominous portent. Perhaps someone should check they made it back from wherever they travelled making this striking record.
OW
This week’s reviewers: Zach Buggy, Oli Warwick.