Review Summary: While Esazlesa may lack some of the bludgeoning, throat-tearing histrionics present in their contemporaries, Společnost psů is a stunning screamo record by its own terms.
Czech quintet Esazlesa initially seem happy to play with the oft-ventured components of screamo, pushing the boat out only so far as to inject a little ambition into its otherwise recognisable parameters. Perhaps best seen during its eponymous second track,
Společnost psů’s first few tracks are pieces of contrast, merging both the developmental soundscapes of post-rock and the erratic moods of emotive hardcore wonderfully. While it’s been done before, the execution is nigh-on flawless, striking the necessary balance between lush and brittle – something the Czechs will manage to maintain throughout
Společnost psů 61-minute run time.
Approaching its mid-point, however, is where the surprises come rolling in. Jazzy tinges are abundant. The opening of ‘V dobrém i zlém’ rests on a laid-back beat, embroidered with beautiful twinkling guitars that lead into its classic rock-fuelled guitar line; similarly, the side-stick led drums during ‘Bloudici mestem’’s interlude adds a Latin touch, creating unexpected splashes of colour before exploding into a stunning swell of post-rock gorgeousness. On the brasher end of the spectrum, ’Egerland’ is a rollicking trip circumnavigating the unlikely waters between screamo and stoner metal, featuring dirty, bluesy solos alongside Lukáš Bouška’s faltering shouts. They even manage to pull off an 8 minute instrumental closer, built around mesmerising layers of gorgeous melodies, thumping tom play, and ever-increasing swathes of distortion washing over, like waves onto a fishing vessel.
Perhaps the most impressive aspect of
Společnost psů then, if viewed from a purely clinical level, is how the Czechs manage to maintain a positive sense of homogeneity throughout – it feels natural, flowing even. Of course, however, this is only half of why it’s so easy to listen to – after all, it’s difficult to get away with upwards of an hour of music on technicality alone (though many have tried). As it happens, Esazlesa’s bridging of a polished sound with screamo’s idiosyncratic imperfections is its defining element, making it both (reasonably) easy to listen to and still affecting, without coming across as ham-fisted. The result is an album that’s teeming with ideas, musically inviting, yet still anchored to the feeling of honesty (language barrier be damned) that, ultimately, needs to be its intrinsic focus.
