Review Summary: A war against tradition.
Maruja is a testament to the idea that pain is the foundation of art. Over the last few years, the Manchester outfit released three extended plays that left the parched mouth of the music world agape, each one increasingly scathing in its view of modern society’s many ills. When it came time to release their full-length debut, a daunting feat for even a band of their stature, the world had handed them a great deal more kindling to fuel their passionate flame. Now we find ourselves confronted by a new band, one that has chosen to shed off much of its artistic sheen to expose what can best be described as pure, unbridled anger.
Pain to Power, as its name would suggest, is remarkably straight forward in its design, sounding off as both a trenchant denouncement of injustice and an impassioned rallying cry for solidarity. Its bite comes from a genuine place of anguish felt by an increasingly fatigued and spiritually downtrodden United Kingdom. The empire that once stood tall atop the world has fallen into a long erosion, its decline having served as a muse for song dating back to the witty satire of Ray Davies. But Maruja is less concerned about the preservation of antique tables and billiards and more a growing divide that has broken apart not only their home but much of the world at large.
Maruja’s reputation as a well-oiled anxiety machine is maintained throughout their debut, the opener a calamitous upheaval of peace parallel to that decried in the venomous lyrics. Vocalist Harry Wilkinson furiously raps, sings and chants against complacency in corruption, genocide and poverty as if yelled from atop an overturned car. The drums pound along like the trampling of panicked feet while the saxophone blares like a pandemoniac siren of the coming apocalypse. Repetition is a call to awareness as Wilkinson denounces those in the rafters pulling the strings. “
They look down on us!”
The repetition, in moderation, is effective in getting across the band’s message, though at times the album can become too reliant on it. Songs like “Look Down On Us,” “Break The Tension” and “Trenches” all utilize this technique to diminishing returns as much of the album comes off as too similar. Though likely intentional, the rapidly alternating notes of the saxophone can also prove overwhelming which can hamper the staying power the instrument had on previous releases.
The band does utilize all their best elements on standout tracks like “Born to Die,” a beautifully layered and existential song highlighting the dynamic range of both the saxophone and Wilkinson’s most impressive vocal performance to date. The tension building ultimately culminates in a Rage type jam complete with scraping guitar, groovy bass and intense rhythm from the drums.
“Saoirse” also stands out among the other tracks, an anthemic celebration of difference, while the semi-instrumental “Zaytoun” echoes sentiments of resilience expressed through an astonishingly ethereal ambiance. “Reconcile” is absolutely incredible, encapsulating every good quality of the album inside a lengthy closer, punctuating
Pain to Power with a sliver of hope to carry on with. “
Have No Fear.”
Pain to Power is a very human album; it’s emotionally complex, it’s flawed and it has a lot to say. The short sharp shock of the band’s earlier music doesn’t translate to the LP format seamlessly, but the strength of Maruja’s debut lies in its very real emotion. It’s not just an album; to them it is an act of protest, a sobering introspection and a call for unity. In the emotional sphere of music, Maruja stands as a monolithic reminder of the darker aspects of the human experience. There is great pain in this music, but it is that pain that grants them the power to seek change.
Recommended Tracks:
Bloodsport
Saoirse
Born to Die
Zaytoun
Reconcile
