Review Summary: Maria BC continues their climb to the top
Maria BC may well top my list of “artists with potential” to emerge in the last several years. 2021’s EP
Devil’s Rain provided a first glimpse, a quintessential pandemic-era release of dream pop/folk, mostly gentle but hinting at grander visions to come. Then came 2022’s debut full-length
Hyaline, an impressive effort which managed to fuse the gorgeous and the abrasive compellingly well, song after song. Now, they’re back with a second LP:
Spike Field.
My best guess for where Maria BC would take us next was in a more flat-out experimental (read: WEIRD) direction. That’s not really the case here, though, even if this latest album doesn’t completely reject the unsettling or the strange. Per the promotional materials,
Spike Field’s underlying premise is “the conflicting nature of wanting to both kill and honor our past”, a complex and personal subject, and one intriguingly linked to the esoteric origin of the record’s title. I was previously unaware, but “spike field” refers to a more-or-less literal field of spikes, one of many ideas compiled to alert future civilizations to the presence of dangerous long-term nuclear waste contamination, even if the ability to communicate via language (verbal or written) has long since been lost.
With those thought-provoking considerations in mind, I’d say that
Spike Field does an impressive job of reflecting upon Maria BC’s recent musical endeavors while also advancing their sound. For listeners familiar with
Devil’s Rain and/or
Hyaline, the twelve songs here still feel quintessentially Maria BC, while leaning into an ambient folk direction (with some interesting classical elements) rather than the more dream pop-ish feel of previous material. Don’t get me wrong, the lush vocals still add an ethereal feeling to the proceedings, but the overwhelming sense here is of sparse and drifting musical beauty, with grim and menacing moments occasionally interjecting.
This is, simply put, a beautiful record. The album’s first half is perhaps as conventionally pristine as Maria BC’s music has ever sounded, anchored by the opening duet of “Amber” and “Watcher”, both utterly stunning folky tunes with yearning vocals, as well as “Haruspex”, riding a surprisingly bouncy melody which you’d be forgiven for not noticing, given its presentation is exceedingly delicate. The second half, meanwhile, hews towards the experimental, while looping in an unexpected dose of classical music influence - notable tracks include “Tied”, with its melancholic melody infused with a vibe of moody intensity, or “Lacuna”, with its drone-ish style, or the long-winded near-instrumental closing title track, dominated by sedate piano.
It’s hard to think of an album concept better suited for Maria BC’s musical style than this one - both deeply intimate and grandly sophisticated. While lyrically the album feels like a closed book, given the words being vocalized are almost entirely incomprehensible, musically the record tastefully delivers upon its themes. This is an LP which is frequently beautiful to a tear-jerking degree, achieving a thoughtful and cathartic sensibility, while also proving challenging enough to unveil further layers more and more with each listen.
Spike Field might be perfectly slated for an autumnal release, given its musingly melancholic mood, but its subtly-executed tunes seem set to enrapture lucky listeners year-round. I may’ve begun this review with a note about Maria BC being an “artist with potential”, but that potential is being realized at an incredible rate with every release. The sky’s the limit.
