Crack Cloud
Pain Olympics

THE REVIEW

A sociological intelligence indeed inspires the imagination of these Crack Cloud, and it operates. Then: it's clear that we have become too savvy, and we always react to certain proposals with the ah ok, they're trying; but: considering that certain musical opinion doesn't distinguish value from pretentiousness, pretentiousness, pretentiousness, in short, from pretenses, and consequently, neither does a certain audience, then go ahead confidently, Canadian post-punk band, with concept videos on YouTube in four chapters, in a colossal-colored triumph of Slavic ravers in total Adidas moving convulsively or in contemporary dances, armed like Warriors of the Night, through urban landscapes of cyberpunk dystopia and peripheral dumps, Romani camps, amidst fires and pitched battles, bug-eyed faces and grim expressions, in a nod to the metric Eastern Europeanism that in one-two established the success even of a joke group like Molchat Doma (who at least genuinely hold Belarusian passports), as if brutalist architecture plus Cyrillic on the cover made communism.

However, there's little music, which, between one reference and another, seems to fare better when channeling the worst Ultravox. And the metric cast of Slavic post-punk is ridiculous if you're Canadian and as soon as you lean into the melodic (the embarrassing Angel Dust), you become Arcade Fire. And no arrangement of brass and strings, no polished video, vocoder, rhythmic solution, or desire to break free from the genre would salvage a track like The Next Fix from the garbage.
It's a pity because the previous (self-titled, 2016) offered the scene very dignified epigones of certain New York experiences (Contortions, Bush Tetras, and crew), on lovely Gang Of Four-inspired patterns brimming with socialist realism.
We’ll then hold on to the side project Nov3l, and never mind.