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Rating: They present themselves as a punk band from Michigan. Essential information and sealed lips. The story seems like a detective film filled with red herrings and mysteries. Starting with the actual members who have never really been revealed, to the use of stand-ins and pseudonyms on set.
What is known is that it is a supergroup with some stable members and an unspecified number of session musicians that lengthens the ghost list. Among others, there is talk of members of Converge, Jane’s Addiction, and Queens of the Stone Age. Not to mention that Josh Homme actually took them along on the recent American tour.
There is no shortage of a certain amount of swagger when they declare themselves the best rock band in the world. However, it’s fair to doubt the seriousness of such a statement given the group’s playful nature. Just look at the cover of the previous “Ultrapop” which seems like the reassuring cover of any Frank Ocean album, or the “Sport of Form” video where Iggy Pop appears as God.
The chaos here is not biographical and lyrical, with texts reflecting the anxieties of our times, but also spills into the heart of “Perfect Savoirs.” A more polished sound mass than in the past, but which timidly takes some forays into cacophony.
Approaching their music for the first time, one risks being a bit dazed. A big blender made of distortions, odd tempos, and even kindnesses that requires a few listens before it’s properly digested. The post-hardcore framework is hybridized with many alternative trends that took hold in the nineties across the U.S. Math-rock scores are not missing. The use of electronics then creates a futuristic dystopian effect with neon lights. The crust may be rough, but the heart is tender, and the dreamy storm of “FKA World” positioned at number two begins to provide the first clues.
There are frontal assaults in “Clone” and “Modern Vanity” just as there is melody in “Everything’s Glitter.” One of the more accessible pieces where it sounds like listening to Weezer from the “Blue Album” set on playing under a strong dose of steroids. In “Patient Mind,” despite the synthetic sounds, it feels like tuning in to some nostalgic old Midwest FM station intent on playing emo, while “Burned Mind” is pure sensory bewilderment, suitable for illegal rave parties in some abandoned old barn.
What has been described so far is contradicted as it heads toward an ending with a nice change into a white dress in full view. The expressive urgency eases and steps into a kaleidoscope first with a semi-acoustic and dreamy sonnet (“In Heaven”), and then with a jazz number for trumpets, guitars, and pianos (“Public Grieving”).
These are the last notes before the lights dim and the curtain definitively falls on this wild futuristic punk show.
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