Review Summary: Her elegance bathes me in grace
During the era of their self-titled debut, Grammatics consisted of frontman Owen Brinley (vocals and guitar), Emilia Ergin (cello), Rory O’Hara (bass), and Dominic Ord (drums). The Leeds-based quartet were particularly adept at their style of cello-interspersed art rock, filled with dramatic sensibility and a touch of biting wit.
Grammatics is the most significant culmination of this idiosyncratic band; they sadly broke apart a few years after its release without having made a full-length follow-up.
The decision to put “Shadow Committee” as the opener reveals itself to be interesting in retrospect. Its bouncing rhythms, reminiscent of math rock, lends it a combination of stateliness and playfulness that is never quite matched by any other track on the album. Think of it as a dip into the denser territory that
Grammatics eventually explores - and though lighter tracks do exist, they do not ultimately contribute to the emotional weight of
Grammatics to the same extent.
The stretch from “D.I.L.E.M.M.A.” to “The Vague Archive” comprises the “lighter” section of the record by virtue of their relatively conventional structures and focus on concise hooks. “The Vague Archive” represents the most vivacious take by Grammatics, especially in contrast with the more leisurely “Murderer”. But when the initially acoustic lament of “Broken Wings” hits, any notion that
Grammatics might be a standard Brit-pop album is dispelled - it features a particularly cathartic, full-bodied climax, full of resonating guitar and Brinley’s soaring falsetto. From then on,
Grammatics paves a new road in earnest, bringing in the unusual development of “Relentless Fours”. It commences with a suspenseful motif and builds upon it to a sudden furious release, its aggression further compounded by the satirical lyrics (commentary on the stale nature of pop music and culture). “Inkjet Lakes” is reflective, quietly sorrowful; I appreciated how the guest vocal contribution of Laura Groves gave it a certain airiness. “Polar Swelling”, meanwhile, is a juxtaposition of bitter sentiments and sweet, delicate melodies.
“Rosa Flood” and “Cruel Tricks of the Light” are almost diametrically opposed in their character, the former euphoric and impassioned, the latter meditative and acoustically driven. The role of “Cruel Tricks of the Light” is, in my opinion, rather crucial, as it is a palette cleanser of sorts to prepare the listener for the ambitious closer of “Swan Song”. “Swan Song” begins with the seductive charm of a worldly aristocrat - and then takes a surprising turn as it switches up its tone for a more straightforward outburst of emotion. The 12-minute runtime of the song is deceiving, though listeners will be rewarded for their patience.
The unifying thematic thread of
Grammatics consists in large part of Brinley’s obtuse, yet attention-grabbing lyrics and his delicate, silky tenor. Metaphors, symbolism, and other literary devices abound, brought to life by a rousing vocal performance. All of this, really, is in line with the flair and grandeur of
Grammatics’s overall sound; the prominence of the cello also adds a unique richness. As “Polar Swelling” states quite cleverly, “all I hear is melody and dissonance arguing, yet resolving to agree.”
Grammatics is stirring.
Grammatics is unpredictable. And to the extent of my knowledge, there is nothing else like it.
