Mogwai
The Hawk Is Howling

I have already explained, in a previous review, the reasons why I consider Mogwai a great band. On the other hand, I know there are a lot of people who don’t like them. And I understand the reasons well: no vocals, a bit long-winded, too conceptual, scattered, repetitive...

For those who enjoy them, the question is obvious. Do they still have something to say by their sixth album? I think so.

Having said that the cover is one of the most uninspired I've seen around lately, and that the title of the first track, "I'm Jim Morrison, I'm Dead", ranks second in the best of the year list, surpassed by the unbeatable "Bring Me the Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mill’s Wooden Peg (Dropping Bombs on the White House)" by BJM, but that the piece is nothing more than a cliché from the Glasgow band, we move on to the second. And here we are already in the realm of wonders. "Batcat" is indeed a tour de force in the depths of the unconscious. Supported by multiple guitar grips, a repeated bass, and a fierce drum, it literally leaves you breathless. It reminded someone of Black Sabbath, and instead, I thought, strange arrhythmias, of Marlene, when they used breaks similar to the Birmingham band (then, excuse the usual digression, I've never figured out if they were fans of Ozzy or had just listened to Soundgarden. A bit like that guitarist I played with who wanted to cover Velvet songs as R.E.M. did).

This new path, unfortunately, is immediately abandoned. The following "Danphe and the Brain" brings us back to Mogwai in their cinematic tracks. I hear some echoes of Teho Teardo's soundtracks. Which, by the way, reminds me of Clint Mansell. Who worked with Mogwai on the soundtrack for "The Fountain". But then: tout se tient!

Of course, I'll spare you the track by track. It must be said that "The Sun Smells Too Loud" is one of the ugliest songs I've heard in recent months, but the rest of the album has been spinning nonstop on my turntable since I bought it, and it's been a while since saturated guitars (those of "Scotland's Shame" and the concluding "The Precipice" are splendid) filled my living room, fog making its way in the fog of cigarette smoke.

Unbearable for those who hate Mogwai, delightful for those who love them. For the latter, I point out the essential "Batcat" EP, with Roky Erickson, yes, him, on vocals in "Devil Rides" (if you don't tear up when you hear it, you have a heart of stone). For the uninitiated, the usual advice: start with "Young Team", and then see.

Four stars, to be understood as seven, according to Minister Gelmini's instructions.