Review Summary: A flash flood of brilliance.
Criticisms had been dished out on the release of A Flash Flood Of Colour in 2012, as the political message seemed to sit a little weak in contrast to the mania of the production and undeniable musicianship of the group.
But is this a fair judgement of the band 3 years later?
The hype over this record hasn't taken long to grow, the lead single The Last Garrison has taken hold as the catchy-as-sin 'radio track', the video to iTunes-exclusive track Slipshod is just pure insanity, and Anaesthetist - well, this track is one of the most gripping, impassioned tracks the band has produced in years…
Turns out on this record, its in good company.
The Mindsweep is a vast departure from their previous works. While sonically, A Flash Flood of Colour shared a lot with Common Dreads, it seems a lot of the focus this time round has been branching out – still bonkers ideas a-plenty, but this is a band seemingly in a new lease of life.
The energy of the opening track – The Appeal + The Mindsweep I, is shared across the length of the record, but in more short sharp bursts, calming grooves and ambient soundscapes take as much of a forefront on this album as the heavy sections.
And here, really, is where the album comes into it’s own.
On first listen, The One True Colour makes for an odd choice as track 2 on the album, it lacks the urgency and slam that you would probably expect based on past material. On any other record this would seem a dead cert for the album closer – anthemic gang vocals, a rallying speech, on the whole a reminder to look up and push forward that would sit comfortably at the end of 45 minutes of insanity. But after a few spins, it becomes clear that the Enter Shikari of 2015 is just as keen on showing us the positive side of ‘this floating rock we call Earth’ as letting us know just how ***ing angry they are with our common injustices.
As such, it places perfectly next to Anaesthetist. Venomous and heavy – this is what rock with a political agenda SHOULD sound like. Fuming at the proposed privatisation of the NHS, the band spit their fury through 3 minutes of uncompromising Prodigy-infused rock.
But then it’s into The Last Garrison, and ‘heads up, and thank *** you’re still alive’. Positive tracks like these are so much more rewarding than previous singles such as Sssnakepit because of the energy and the proximity to the previous rage. Sure, there are things to be rightfully pissed off at in this world, but Enter Shikari are well aware of what we should be thankful for.
Never Let Go Of The Microscope is next and this is really an interesting proposition. Delivered with almost a 90’s hip-hop flow (for the most part), this track chastises the atrocities committed in the name of religion, and pledges a devotion to science and research to justify our existence.
This marks the turning point in the record really, because even though there is some familiarity in the upcoming tracks, there’s also evidence of the band pushing themselves further than they ever have before.
Myopia, for example, sounds for the first minute like something off In Rainbows or, at a push, Kid A from Radiohead – not a comparison you’d expect to draw at the start of the album, but then turns into a different beast altogether, taking System Of A Down style riffery, mixing in a pop/drum ‘n’ bass chorus and ending up on something a lot more ‘standard ES’ for fans of the band – really recommending this track.
Torn Apart is another slice of experimentation – although the guitar work and grimy basslines are hardly anything new on the surface, there’s clearly a sign of Shikari holding back and it massively benefits the song – while the temptingly obvious thing to do after the build up of the verses is to crash everything in together to make a fan-pleasing, riff-heavy breakdown, this song takes an entirely different direction, almost euphoric pop instrumentation, and some of Rou’s strongest ever sung vocals.
The Interlude is really just an extension of the melody from this song, and I’m not hugely sure why it was made into a separate track considering the flow of the album. There’s not many abrupt endings on offer here, a lot of the more ambient synths glide together from track to track.
I’m not hugely feeling the next track The Bank of England – it’s demonstrating some more of the new-found restraint from the previous tracks, but it doesn’t really go anywhere. The more manic guitar work and dirty synthesizer makes for much more interesting sound in the second half of the song to mix it up, but lyrically it does nothing for me – the constant refrain of ‘they blew up the Bank of England, the paper burnt for days’ really does tire, and given the strength of the rest of the album, it marks the low point of the album. For me, anyway.
But then what a way the record redeems itself.
There’s A Price On Your Head is sheer brilliance. Instrumentally, there’s a slight feel of the non-album single Rat Race in some of the initial riffing, but nothing prepares you for the twists and turns this track takes. There’s a little bit of Dillinger Escape Plan/sikTh polyrhythmic work going on, class-based lyrical silliness, a straight up 4/4 headbanging section, and xylophones. Not to mention a string section to play it all out and allow you to get your head around what just happened in the preceding 2 minutes.
And if you hadn’t had quite enough curveballs, Dear Future Historians… certainly caps it off. To me, lyrically, this track explores the concept of while many of us will never be responsible for, or even come close to scaling the summit of human endeavour, we all make our own experiences through finding love and friendships – and there’s something so heart-warming in just knowing ‘you know what, that’s OK, that’s all we need’ – and it really resonates. Sure there’s a little weakness in Rou’s vocals on this one – and the 4 minute piano ballad is hardly their conventional style, but it stands out and closes off the album near perfectly…
… or so you would think. The Appeal + The Mindsweep II takes most of the ideas from the opening track, and ramps up the insanity just that little bit more – adding a call back to the lyrics from Sorry You’re Not A Winner, a stonking great trumpet riff, Rou playing the role of the Pope (just listen to it, it makes no sense to me either) – and it seems to me to give off the message that ‘we’re still the same bunch of mentalists we’ve always been’ – and on most other albums, that would cap it off nicely, particularly with the complete mindsweep *** that we’ve been on so far. But after the ending that could have been, part of me is left feeling ‘just leave it alone!’
On the whole, this record is immensely satisfying, and while there are a couple of noticeable inconsistencies, credit must be given for the obvious step out of their comfort zone. A flash flood of brilliance.
