Review Summary: A glorious record in every respect. Get it now.
Apparently tiring of the endless (though generally quite positive) Sonic Youth comparisons that dogged their music, New York art-punk troupe Blonde Redhead made a bold bid for artistic recognition in 2000 with the release of Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons. The more subdued, yet impressively deconstructed sound the band had decided to pursue caught some listeners off guard, though the record did quite well in critics’ circles.
Where the previous album reveled in its hip concoction of post-punk sprinkled with intermittent synth-pop hooks, their 2004 follow-up Misery is a Butterfly is a thoroughly moody and coldly emotional affair. Elephant Woman kicks off the record with an impossibly pristine miasma of swirling strings and quietly noodling guitars. Kazu Makino’s childlike voice switches from the high-pitched shriek found on their rawer punk records to a near-hushed intonation. The song, which references the film Elephant Man, deals with a horrific, disfiguring horse-riding accident Makino suffered in 2003.
Elephant girl
It was an accident unfortunate
Angel threw me like a rubber man
Aiming for the ground
Why amuse yourself in such a way
No don’t insist, I’m already hurt
Co-vocalist/guitarist Amedeo Pace contributes Messenger, another stunningly orchestrated (if lyrically peculiar) piece of bed-sitter melodrama, backed up with Makino’s melodic, yet slightly distorted keyboard chimes. He returns on ‘Doll is Mine’, dealing with the exploitation of the emotional vulnerabilities of young lovers. His vocals, youthful and boyish to the point of uncanny similarity with Makino’s, also feature on ‘Maddening Cloud’, a druggy, sweeping ode to despairing romanticism.
And you can touch me there
Just don’t leave me alone
And you can call me softly
When I dream and ask for more
You can slow and fold and mold my mind
And she said
I can’t feel my toes
And she must be alone
And far too cold.
Makino returns to perform the majority of the tracks, though the two share vocal duties on the electronica-tinged Pink Love; initially, her high-pitched voice may come off as incongruous when juxtaposed against the soft-focus melancholy of most of the album. While she has toned down her shrillness accordingly on most of the tracks, she lets loose with the rousing chorus of Allow me to show you/The way which I adore you on the album closer Equus. It’s far from an uplifting song, though. The Latin word for ‘horse’, Equus makes another less oblique reference to Makino’s accident (which was followed by a long spell of pneumonia; the group admitted that the record would have ended up sounding very different had Makino’s fortune been anything otherwise). The lyrics while straightforward on paper, take on an urgent, cathartic feel against the backdrop of the far more pronounced drums and bass lines.
Equus by nature
Timid creature
Ready to run away
Equus by nature
Timid creature
I will hide you
Will protect you
Won’t let anyone
Take you away
The spectacular title track vies with Elephant Woman as the best on the record. The gothic imagery, ubiquitous throughout the album, escapes its generally tastefully understated nature on this track, explicitly manifesting the record’s innate obsession with loneliness, heartbreak and pure isolation. Gorgeous layers of strings, cellos and guitars float around Makino’s emotion-exhausted vocals and lyrics which sound even more heart-rending than usual:
What I say, I say only to you
Cause I love and I love only you
Dearest Jane, I want to give you a dream
That no one has given you
Remember when we found misery
We watched her, watched her spread her wings
And slowly fly around our room
And she asked for your gentle mind
Few albums in recent years have impressed me as much as this has. The group has made a seamless transition from chaotic, feedback-drowned punk, to an infinitely more graceful and decidedly adult sound. The sheer elegance with which this document of emotional torment has been articulated is about as far removed from anything Sonic Youth could, or would ever want to record.
Given that I wasn’t into the group before this, I can’t tell if their existing fans are likely to warm to this record. What should be clear to everyone is that the detached, irony-heavy attitude of their erstwhile 1970s New York No Wave inspired sound been completely restructured to resemble the feel and mood of Suede’s seminal Dog Man Star, the quiet beauty of Bjork’s Vespertine with the emotion of Homogenic. The results are dramatic, lush, warm and chilling all at once. Though the dissonance is gone, its emotionally wrought, quietly chaotic charm will prove just as thrilling to anyone willing to give it a chance. An artistic reinvention as spectacular as this deserves no less.
