Boduf Songs
Burnt Up on Re-Entry

Up until a couple of albums ago, the Englishman Matthew Sweet was the undisputed champion of the most isolationist expression of independent songwriting. Strictly home recordings, preferably at night to eliminate any external interference, spectral voice, the hypnotic progression of the guitar, and some background noise between pauses: that was the drone-folk of his eponymous debut in 2005 and his fine successors, "Lion Devours the Sun" and "How Shadows Chase the Balance," which managed the impossible feat of perfecting a formula that theoretically left little room for credible evolution.

Initially, Sweet worked to make his music sound like "a man alone in a room," but with the fourth album, "This Alone Above All Else in Spite of Everything," a more exploratory effort emerged: an effort that coincided with increased indulgence towards more varied solutions. Even though all the writing and execution remained solely on Sweet's shoulders, his music started to take the shape of that of a real band. The greater use of instruments and registers marked a clear intent to change, a legitimate and physiologically understandable intent, considering the impossibility of further exploring those masterfully sketched lands of the first three works and the consequent need to evolve in some direction. This brings us to "Burnt Up on Re-Entry" (2012), the first work that doesn't emerge from Sweet's home in Southampton but follows the move to the States, a work that confirms the just-stated intent/need: Sweet's songwriting, enriched with electricity and electronics like never before, emancipates from the successful format "a man, a guitar," and, undergoing a normalization process that partly trivializes the final outcome, approaches the "depressive rock" of various Radiohead ("Hail to the Thief"), Katatonia ("Viva Emptiness"), and Anathema ("A Natural Disaster").

Having lost the undeniable charm of the past, the magnetism of that voice floating in the nothingness of night, the incredible ability (I would almost call it magic) to get the most out of the least, despite employing poor and essential instrumentation, what remains of the peculiarities that allowed the minstrel from Southampton not only to stand out but even to lead a new musical sub-genre? The lengthy titles remain, the mood (nocturnal, gloomy, vegetative), the hallucinatory atmospheres, almost unreal, filled with anguish and disenchantment, the aseptic whisper that continues to caption the gloomy settings, a songwriting, although in slight decline, still well above average.   

And perhaps it was worth it: the freshness of Sweet's "new deal" is immediately perceived in the opening tracks, "Fiery the Angels Fell" and "A Brilliant Shaft of Light from Out of the Night Sky". Both start off somber but will soon be shaken by enveloping electronic beats, leading directly to guitars much heavier than what a conventional songwriter album could tolerate, yet they perfectly match Sweet's feverish hiss. The fact is that, between changes of time and settings, the tracks enjoy a truly unprecedented dynamism for those accustomed to the desolate lullabies that had been the stylistic hallmark of the project from the start. Electronics definitively take the forefront in the following episodes, dressing up as catacomb-like ambient in the interlude "Gateway Sound," forming the restless backbone of "Song to Keep Me Still," another convincing visionary ballad, and even taking the lead role in "Vermin, Rend thy Garments," entirely entrusted to machines.

Unfortunately, the central part of the album will show too many weaknesses, suffering an evident lack of inspiration, nonetheless compensated by the formal innovations at play: the sinuous minimal-techno moves of the aforementioned fifth track aren't surprising, nor is the stoner fury unleashed in the second half of "Everyone Will Let You Down in the End." At this point, the nondescript, anonymous "Long Divider" certifies a worrying flatness, perceivable from the skin even before the ears, where in the past each simple, even poorly played and even worse recorded note inexplicably hit the target's heart.

Fortunately, evident signs of recovery are recorded in the final phase of the album: the most compelling moment is the boldest experiment of the lot, the exquisite "Drexelius Sick Man Quarles Emblemes Closed Heaven," which blends minimal-techno geometries with an ominous vocoderized lament, broadening Sweet's scope of action, credible even in Aphex Twin fashion (or perhaps it would be better to evoke Radiohead of "Kid A"): proving that it's not a matter of form but substance, and that when Sweet is in a state of grace, he again proves to be an artist capable of evoking that famous tear. Another piece worthy of mention follows, "Between the Palisades and the Firmament," which in its instrumental tail dares to push beyond the "metallic mathematics" of Tool-esque memory, mimicking the hypnotic obsessions of albums like "Aenima" and "Lateralus" (obviously in an extremely simpler version in line with the musician's not-so-great technical skills). The album closes with the sparse voice-guitar duet of "Maggot Ending," which brings us back to past glories, and the anguishing instrumental outro "Oh my Overlord," which concludes the fifty-four minutes of "Burnt Up on Re-Entry" with degenerate sounds worthily deconstructed and disconnected.

To the novice, I say: "Burnt Up on Re-Entry" is not the most representative work of the Boduf Songs epic and is therefore not the most sensible path to delve into Matt Sweet's world, presenting more as the final (but not definitive) step of an artistic journey that will surely not deny further developments. But for those who don't quite have a flair for minimalist works where not much happens, it still represents a good work of honest and "dark entertainment," which will surely interest all those who sympathize with the names mentioned throughout the review. Even though, considering the high caliber of works released by the artist in question, the wisest choice remains to embrace the entire discography...