Review Summary: The absolute apex of Swans' gothic folk era, where Gira's lyrics find a new high
There may be no artist whose discography is uniformly praised more than Swans, and yet a crucial portion of Swans' discography remains displaced from the critical eye.
After establishing their place within the indie community with such albums as Filth and Young God, Swans mastermind Michael Gira began turning his eye towards more progressive acoustic goals, having judged that his current efforts had reached their goal. As such, he began incorporating sounds from industrial music and the burgeoning neofolk movement that accompanied it, following artists like Throbbing Gristle and Current 93, respectively.
Although Gira had hinted at his new folk movement with 1989's The Burning World, the following Swans effort was anything heard unto that which he had wrought before, despite the hints at its structure from previous Gira works.
The album announces itself with a series of monumental chords in the commencement of the opening track, Better Than You, which then leave the listener in a brutal and yet beautiful chord progression before opening into Gira's vocals accompanied by a chilling acoustic backing section. These lyrics serve as a thesis statement for the album, establishing the inferiority of the listener to the epic soundscape about to unfold. The unique anthemic tones that intersperse the gothic sound of the verses help bridge an abrupt admixture between hope and failure that will be maintained throughout the album.
Not a single note, riff, or texture within Gira's songwriting on this album is particularly complex. In part, this is how the seeds of post-rock would come to be observed within later Swans albums. Here, Gira utilizes the single-tone riffs and themes he first employed under heavy distortion with a few simple melodic alterations on top - an acoustic octave here, a symphonic chord there - to great depressive effect. It must be stressed how much emotional magnitude Gira achieves despite the paucity of variation here beheld. Again, Gira effortlessly replicates the minor tonic variations of before, but adds layer upon layer, completely shifting the effect upon the listener. It would not be difficult to take the songs from this album and transfer the songs to the style heard on the notoriously extreme live album Public Castration Is a Good Idea, using the bass as a foundation.
The final layer accompanying Gira's brutalistic song arrangement and intriguing understanding of musical layers is the newfound lyricism exhibited in this album. Although arguably his finest lyrical moment is embodied in the previous album's God Damn the Sun, the utter beauty of his self-hating art truly comes into his own in this volume, embodied in the song Blind:
"Now don't say a prayer for anyone, it doesn't do any good
Please don't ask me questions, it'd just be misunderstood
And if you could step inside me you'd feel what hatred brings
And if you saw with my eyes, you'd see what self-deception means
I was younger once, and I created a lie
And though my body was strong, I was self-diluted, confident, and blind
Now show some pity, for the weak of will
Because when we're drinking, we can never be filled
Show some understanding for a lonely fool
Because when I'm drinking, I am out of control
Well I was never young, nothing has transpired
And when I look in the mirror, I feel dead, I feel cold, I am blind"
If Michael Gira knows one thing, it is the absolute despicable horror of the human condition. Yet with that knowledge he has been imbued an intimacy with all that is beautiful with humanity, and perhaps these two are intertwined beyond separation.
