A Place To Bury Strangers
Worship

This album is a bomb!

The New Yorkers A Place To Bury Strangers win the challenge of the fateful third album, a ruthless test for any artist who finds themselves managing unexpected success within a few years. At the terrible crossroads between “staying” or “leaving,” the band avoids the plague of ephemerality (in the sense of disappearing into nothingness after a brilliant start, what did you think?) and reaffirms their identity, which is solid and far beyond the “we wanted so much to be the Jesus And Mary Chain.” The shoegaze of A Place To Bury Strangers escapes any temptation of mannerism, the feared tilt towards the shores of white noise, and simplifies their sound by condensing sonic exploration, solutions, and assorted surprises within the three/four-minute song format, focusing on what really matters, which is the song-writing.

“Worship” is a direct album, eleven tracks over forty-four minutes that flow without a moment of weakness and never bore. Paradigmatic is “Alone,” which opens the album with hammering rhythms of pounding drums and rasping bass lines, soon joined by the inevitable guitar antics of the mastermind Oliver Ackermann, with guitars taking off like a roaring bomber at the finale. And what about the earth-shattering “Mind Control”?: a tour de force of distortions, ever-changing riffs, a dark booming voice laid over nervous drumming, breathtaking counter-times, and relentless beat in the chorus. And to think that Gavin Haag's drumming, responsible for a major performance, is as mechanical as it gets, so much so that, for sounds and dynamics, it might seem like a drum-machine (still used in a couple of songs: in the danceable “You Are the One,” sophisticated pop d'auteur, and in the slow “Slide,” permeated by nocturnal atmospheres and acidic sounds, the only moment where the band decides to ease off the throttle). Even new member Dion Lunadon holds his own on the four strings: his bass is rough and oozing punk with every pluck.

It's obvious, however, that all the magic of this work, given Ackermann's expertise on both the technical and technological fronts (considering that he designs and sells guitar effects through his successful Death By Audio), is in the remarkable guitar work, an electric fury that seems to have no rest, a runaway train that maintains punk virulence while constantly searching for new effects, not shying away from clear concessions to catchiness and always imaginative, serving catchy, lively, and energetic pieces that know how to flirt with both the dark-wave and garage and rock'n'roll.

And so the titanic title track, with its imposing initial riff, seems to come straight from “Pornography”; in the finale of “Fear,” the guitars thicken to embrace the cause of the most stunning stoner; in “Dissolved,” The Cure, those of "Boys Don't Cry," are referenced again; the strained chorus of the phantasmagoric “Why Can't Cry Anymore” even dares to take on the bloody tones of Rozz Williams's Christian Death, while in the rock anthem “Revenge,” we hear Morrisonian echoes. “Leaving Tomorrow,” the last incredible ride, finally seems to snatch the wild main riff from the Iron Maiden repertoire (and it's no coincidence that it's there that Allen Bickle of the metallic Baroness plays the drums!). Overall, Ackermann's vocal performance is incisive, resembling the spirit of a resurrected Ian Curtis when it gets shadowy, but never denying a deep-rooted love for the most brazen rock.

It will have been noticed, among other things, that I refrained from mentioning My Bloody Valentine (an essential source of influence for Ackermann), who this time I don't find so prominent, lacking that ethereal and dreamy setup – albeit exquisitely electric – that spelled Kevin Shields's fortune. No, in “Worship,” sentimentalism is banished; this album is a bomb, a real bomb, an album right for the right people, like us for that matter, to blast at full volume, to gulp down in one go, first thing in the morning and for the rest of the day.

Because if this “Worship” has a virtue, its virtue is precisely in knowing how to create a post to the music of A Place To Bury Strangers by moving away from noise tout-court (let’s forget the noise-making connotations of the masterpiece “Exploding Head”) to embrace a conception of cultured music that doesn't necessarily have to flay the ears, but knows how to entertain and at times amaze, if not unsettle (think of the restart in the title track, whose riff attacks again after a few seconds of silence three-quarters into the piece, or the dual “Dissolved,” practically two songs in one).

Because A Place To Bury Strangers have the courage to lay their cards on the table, and what happens inside “Worship” is, in the end, what happens on the cover, which depicts the usual New York skyscrapers, but seen from a new and interesting perspective with new and beautiful colors.

GET IT!