This is quite an old piece, a year or more old. It was written at a time when I was really trying to translate the feeling of listening to music and craft my informational writing to cram in a lot of detail. At the moment I’m trying to write shorter paragraphs to break things open better. Note, as I have written elsewhere that I failed to pick up on the over compression that was found by Pitchfork. With that said, listening again I still enjoy the music.
Light Years is Cold Cave’s third album and bears hallmarks of a mainstream push like a guest spot from Yeah Yeah Yeahs guitarist Nick Zinner. The sleeve’s “COLD CAVE” embossed in a bold scarlet sans serif juxtaposed with the photo matter offers fair warning. Loud colour against its monochromatic reflection (see the lips), the play of light and shadow on human experience, flowers for the dead—Light Years approaches all of these musically in its textures, lyrics, recorded performance, beats and structures. Its songs constitute a bold pastiche at an opportune moment. Light Years is a triumph of reproducing moments of quality from the likes of New Order, Suicide, Human League, and the Cure—the editing of these ideas together is demonstrative of both a pastiche of the past and an ably conceived morally ambiguous present.
Light Years starts with “The Great Pan is Dead,” a rapid fire of sleek metallic guitar riffs and bounding, lean sounding drums contending with airy synthesisers. There is a real unity to this track—its rock elements lend themselves to driving the track forward and commencing the album in a pleasingly abrupt introduction with no build up while the synths underpin the tonality of the vocal and strengthen the sense of melody in the song. Instrumentation choices are very strong with a welcome interplay of Steve Alibini reminiscent chainsaw rhythm to tuneful synth guitar. It is an opening track that establishes many of the album’s musical parameters and the foundation of a broader sonic collage. “Pacing around the Church” maintains forward momentum with more “live” sounding drums and spanky guitar riffs. The song also has a really nice Krautrock derived outro with whirr and drums. “Confetti,” in contrast features a slow build up. The gradual over lay of the crystalline lead synth line, the grooving bass synth, the guitar, the vocals etc. gives the individual components room to breathe.
Nowhere are postmodernity and attendant postreligiosity more present than in the lyrics of “Under World USA.” Wesley Eisold, Cold Cave’s only constant member, sings: “I’ll carry your cross now baby/It’s a blasphemous world today.” It’s a world where individuals pace around the church, rather than entering it and the body of people it symbolises, where symbols of devotion and community are reduced to their gothic visages. It is an atomised dystopia all too similar to our own. The sense of powerlessness is brought home by a marching synthesizer sequence reminiscent of Vangellis’ end theme to Blade Runner but hitting harder in the mid-bass to complement the back beat. The music underpins the narrative of sacred and profane. Reminiscent of macho blasphemer Rasputin, “Underworld” mixes the perceived need to sin and feel guilt with a fleeting sense of resurrection found in the crescendos of the chorus. The synth guitar solo-cum-triumphant-coda similarly introduces a change which ultimately underscores the prevailing current of the song but for a moment subverts it. Prevailing gloom is punctuated by liaisons under the cover of darkness but a puncture is just that in the scheme of the larger fabric.
By “Icons of Summer” the devices of the album are pretty much set. It starts with the sound of seagulls and quickly launches into a driving beat and a catchy groove on synth. The harmonies begin, strongly tonal, before the introduction of glitch samples and shoegaze meets krautrock whirring guitar. The tonal elements fight with the atonal—the resulting tension matches the frustrations in the lyrics with the track ending in motorboating electronics. “Alchemy and You” has the welcome inclusion of brass which serves as a reminder of Eisold’s ability to incorporate diverse instrumentation as well as draw from multiple collaborators. It is “Burning Sage” that really amplifies interest in the album’s final act. Eisold’s vocals at full pelt combined with power drums and a bass synth line like Brad Fiedel’s theme for The Terminator given full reign build up a sense of excitement that is maintained in “Villains of the Moon.” The inclusion of chains at this stage seems a pointed nod to Alan Vega and Suicide. The drums stay strong, augmented by good additional percussion. There is a really nice drum fill just past the half way mark—the toms are possibly digitally detuned and there is good utilization of stereo in the mixing. Snares for the whole of the song seem detuned like in David Bowie’s Low. The drums are really big sounding which adds to a powerful final impression. The album is consistent in quality and the effect of the last tracks is to leave a strong parting impression.
,p>In sum, this album is a very strong effort. Its use of ideas from the 1980s do not hold it back when it comes to communicating present day concerns and the strong pastiche of the decade demonstrates genuine artistry.
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