Review Summary: Same dude, new guts.
Since we last heard from Stefon Alexander, the man behind the persona P.O.S has been through quite a lot. His failing kidneys, which according to him had been deteriorating since he was a teenager, finally stopped him in his tracks and forced him to cancel his late-2012 tour. It wasn't until mid-2013 that a donor was finally found and the eventual operation that successfully replaced his kidney happened in March 2014. Musicians have this way of finding inspiration in many different kinds of places, sometimes dark places (like sickness or loss). P.O.S was always known for the rather cynical tone in his lyrics, never content with obeying orders or being what people wanted him to be. His words had a sharp bite to them that enticed a certain type of listener who enjoyed his critical observations and general hatred towards the world around him.
A bit of that bite was lost in his more heavily-electronic outing
We Don't Even Live Here in 2012. While the album stood on its own as a fine piece of work, it was a different kind of P.O.S we were hearing, not as adept anymore at rounding up everyone to raise their fists in revolution against the powers that govern our society. Then, for four years or so, the world of P.O.S went dark while Stefon overcame his health setbacks and learned to live with his new urinary system.
With
Chill, dummy, his latest offering, it appears as though triumph over sickness has brought back the P.O.S from old days. Whether it's what fans want five years later or not, the album dives head-first back into the cryptic, no-nonsense style that flowed through his earlier
Audition or
Never Better days. He sounds pissed off again, seething with lyrics like
"some of y'all thought racism was over 'cause the President was black" on the nostalgic "Wearing a Bear". On this track, he barrages listeners like a jaded curmudgeon, condescendingly referencing hashtags, telling people to "punch it in their 'Googlers'", and comparing himself to Leonardo DeCaprio from the film
The Revenant (coming back from the dead wearing his bulky bear skin). Perhaps that's the inspiration behind the odd cover of him sporting a heavy coat and looking like he's in the middle of a sandstorm.
As bizarre as it is, for this listener it's nice to have the anger back in his music. As is typically the case, P.O.S can be found all over the place here critiquing modern society. He tackles more external observations on "Infinite Scroll" where he offers his two cents on how mindless and antisocial people have become with social networking, commenting on how
"the streets ain't talkin, 'cause they too busy talking to they phone, favouriting their problems, liking all their causes". But he goes inward as well, on the sprawling and lengthy "Sleepdrone / Superposition", gathering several of his Minnesota-based peers. Here he admits he found it hard to sit down after his operation and thank fans and friends for the support, unconfident that his words would be able to signify just how appreciative he was. There's also a gnawing sense of self-loathing, the way Stefon refers to his blood as "poisonous blood", as if he sees his body as a weak vessel. It all amounts to a vintage P.O.S song where the listener can't help but be swept up in his words.
Stefon is careful though not to fully travel backwards in time and forget the progress he's made since then. His more chorus-driven song structure from the previous album is here, once again bringing in Bon Iver himself on "Faded", a groovy and stunning piece of work that shines as a highlight for both their careers and is one of the first times in memory you can hear P.O.S spitting a sensual lyric, as he opens with
"I want your body on me" proceeded by an awkward giggle. Highlight "Thieves / Kings" brings back P.O.S's uncanny ability to bring a listener right to front lines of a revolution they didn't even intend to be a part of. His voice is stern but understanding, as if he's right there with you, fighting the good fight. And so you clench your fists and shout out alongside him.
It's not a perfect return unfortunately. Songs like the overstuffed "Bully", packed with features and choppy pacing, keep the album from feeling as smooth as it could be. "Roddy Piper" mixes an off-putting electronic beat in the chorus with juvenile lyrics, spewing f-bombs for seemingly no reason and with little in the way of flow in his rapping. The abundance of shorter 1-min filler tracks also adds to a more fractured listen than desired. It doesn't detract from the experience luckily, and while
Chill, dummy won't likely be remembered as his magnum opus, it's overall quality shows P.O.S could very well still craft one in the near future. This is a lot more promising of an outlook versus what we were hearing about him four years ago. Not only is P.O.S back making music again, he's pissed off again, driving a newfound sense of energy we haven't seen from him in years.
