Battles
Gloss Drop

First of all, I realize that good manners would dictate not to talk about an album that has yet to see the light, but alas, if this thing really bothers you, try to swallow it as a preamble to a proper review or one that is in order, which, forgive me, I will not be the one to write.

While wandering, I happened a couple of days ago upon the Battles' website, I was a bit bewildered by the cover, listened to the obligatory listenable track, Ice Cream. I like it, it's quite catchy. They are in Milan on the 15th. I can't resist the temptation, I look for a friendly link and download "Gloss Drop" (Warp, 2011) in its entirety.

As fate would have it, assuming fate can will anything, among the handful of links I need to download the cover as well, the usual paths leading to music forums of all kinds pop up, and glancing at them, I can't help but lament the news that, as Brizzi once read when I was a youngster, Tyondai Braxton has left the group.
What can I say. Rightly or wrongly, the album is more or less harshly criticized everywhere. On first listen, there's a bitter taste for what could have been and for what will never be. The numerous comments, sacred or profane, even go so far as to put dear Williams on the pillory, hypothesizing that just as Battles' success was attributable to Braxton, that of Don was thanks to the good Damon Che, and even licking the thesis that, who knows, the goodness of S&S was ultimately due to David Shea...

Without taking anything away from either the good Damon Che or the genius of Braxton (two musicians whose every project I have loved), I would say that, although mine is not the fine ear of a connoisseur, the poor Williams should, to exacerbate the concept, enjoy the best daughters of generations to come.

After a few days of listening, what I can say with certainty is that it's a Battles album, period, and therefore compared to the previous one, the genre, or better the non-genre, is the same. If I had to christen the work of William, although it's a term that might suit Braxton better, I would use the term "apprentice sorcerer." Even from the first track, Africastle, you can feel the hand of the latter (whether he worked directly on the album material or was just an influence, I won't be the one to tell you, but I would intuitively lean towards the former), so much so that some passages sound akin to both the recent "Central Market" and the old "History..." from the beginning of the millennium.
As much as you can feel his hand, for better or worse, you also feel the absence of the omnipresent voice in "Mirrored" although, in this regard, the remaining musketeers have patched things up with some quite successful collaborations (Matias Aguayo, Gary Numan, Kazu Marino, Yamantaka Eye). The other tracks recall strands halfway between "American Don" by Don and "Under Thunder..." by Storm, instrumental refrains chasing each other until they create the themes of the pieces, wolfish loops waiting for the night to strike and the day to lose their fur but not their habit of enchanting whoever lends an ear, embedding that flea that will make you say you love it or hate it. The rhythmic base, as congested as usual, is a rug on which to roll without shame, without fear of the rooster crowing three times in your betraying ears of "Mirrored," without fear of the talking cricket whispering to forget the glories of the past. And yet, damn it, even without the little voice of fairy Tyondai...

At this point, it's up to you. First of all, make a competent review, written by someone who has the ability, time, and desire to inform themselves properly. And make your own evaluation too. To make it a laugh, after a few days I'm waiting to fall in love, and I feel how you feel in these situations, halfway between the fear of being unable to let go and the fear of getting it up the derriere.