Review Summary: Anxieties and maladies and falling out of love
I can’t say I’ve ever really “gotten” Los Campesinos!. The Welsh band’s prime-era albums like
We are Beautiful, We are Doomed and
Romance is Boring have some stunning highlights, sure, but also whole swathes of their tracklists which leave me wondering what everyone else seems to hear in them.
Imagine my surprise, then, when my immediate response to my first listen to the collective’s latest offering, coming nearly two decades into their career and seven years after their previous LP, was an astonished “
God damn, this might be a classic”.
All Hell doesn’t just break loose, it unveils a whole lot of firepower - an intriguing combination of subtle atmospherics built around apocalyptic and society-skewering narratives, impassioned crescendos indebted to post-rock, and a juvenile emo sensibility dictating the presence of handjobs and acne among the song titles, the last of which manages to add a levity to balance the heaviness of its themes.
Further listens haven’t detracted from the record’s unambiguous strengths. Los Campesinos! seem to have mellowed a bit with age, if by “mellowing”, you mean that their railing against the ills of the world and invocations of coming doom are presented in the matter-a-fact telling of a middle-aged man spelling out his divorce and foreclosure. The results are captivating - a lyrical style walking the tightrope between laconic and ferocious without ever taking a fatal spill, while the soundscapes alternate between dreamy slow-burners and vigorous rock anthems, both styles possessing a persistent sense of catchiness. And, taken as a whole, the release has that ineffable feel of an “album of substance”, regularly reminding the listener it has something to say, without being overbearing to the point of pretension.
All Hell’s weaknesses, such as they are, become apparent around the edges. It’s not a particularly long album (under fifty minutes in full), but the fifteen track structure does read as slightly over-stretched, with a quality lull in the album’s second half, and the three Roman numeral-denoted interludes feeling truly superfluous. The closer, too, doesn’t quite provide the sendoff (most of) this album deserves, its sublime final minute or so not quite redeeming the rather annoying vocal melody which proves its most memorable attribute. It’s those kinds of nagging little gripes which diminish the record from an all-around tour-de-force, into a lesser state of still admirable excellence. In my final analysis, it’s a tracklist littered with monumental tunes (“The Coin-Op Guillotine”, “Long Throes”, and “0898 HEARTACHE” are absolutely killer, among others) and united by a coherent worldview, but the whole thing falls oh-so-short of being something even greater.
So yeah, this isn’t a perfect album, but
All Hell still feels like essential for anyone keeping up with new music in 2024.Simultaneously reading like the accomplished and comfortable work of a veteran group at the top of their powers, and a bold and brash effort brandished by some folks with a definite “don’t give a fuck" attitude and the creative streak to back it up, it’s an album which seems to have something for everyone. Fans of the band’s earlier albums should enjoy it, while those pesky unbelievers may even be converted as well. Trust me, I was one of them.
