Review Summary: The future of our pasts, and the pasts that will shape our futures.
Human Death is an EP that respects its roots. It also believes in their ability to grow. This is noisy punk with that extra oomph that somehow lands it in territory that is slightly outside of both punk as well as noise rock. It’s a formula
Future of the Left is far more than comfortable with. Hooks, hooks, hooks. Don’t think for a second that it comes up short on aggression though. Comfort is normally a death sentence for bands that enjoy pushing the envelope, but Future of the Left is one of the exceptions to the rule. Release after release frontman Andy Falkous proves he has plenty to say and sometimes even seems to be exponentially growing in the department.
In fact, the entire band at this point, and on this EP especially, seem to be taking every aspect of their career and building and building and building upon what they have done so far. The method of doing so at times can almost feel like recycling, but it is something beyond that. They are taking the best pieces of themselves and whittling down further and further to their core. They are using what weapons they know work and just sharpening the holy f
uck out of them.
The EP begins with a somewhat typical FotL shout-a-long, with expected cutthroat instrumentation, that never wastes time showing off, but has just enough complexity to entertain those that spend a bit more time dissecting it. Some of the songs that follow delve a bit more into lush and layered instrumentation. This is not a completely abstract idea to fans of the project, but it is much more expanded upon here than it has been in the past. The perfect balance of absurdity, everyday life, and honest emotion that Falkous appears to have been born with also finds its way into every corner of this EP.
The album ends with what could be Future of the Left’s most emotionally raw song to date. “Hey Precious” is a song somewhat shrouded in a fog of meaning that is open to interpretation. It feels in some ways like a love song, but maybe more than love it is almost a nauseous fascination. It’s a song that seems to convey that feeling you have when the way someone exists gets to you so intensely that the simplest things about them become works of art. And the thing you need most is to talk to them, but you can’t. Or maybe you won’t. Because it’s not that you lack the ability, it’s that you know the conversation could shatter the illusion of that person. During the build of the song with orchestral strings and overdriven guitars galore, vocals can be made out under the sea of noise that carry a confrontational tone. They are given an airy quality as if the entire section is imaginary, a daydream of telling that one person what you need them to know. Then everything is cut off. In the aftermath of the song’s climax a simple horn section is left echoing the melody. It feels like that one piece of reality that is left when you realize that all these other things you built around it only appeared to be tangible. In reality, you only have the very core.
And maybe that sentiment ties together where Future of the Left is now in their career and where the band appears to be going. They know what to feel, how they feel, the things they need to shout, and they are comfortable in doing so. Future of the Left is still going places, but some of those places are bound to look familiar.
! band needs a whole lot more love in general, you should review the husband ep as well!
