Review Summary: When the smoke clears, what is left? Goodbye, goodbye
In October of 2022, fellow Sputnikmusic user Bilbodabag and myself were fortunate enough to see black midi live in what would ultimately be their final performance in the city of Chicago. Amidst such fabulous spectacles as a servile butler offering the band members oysters on a silver platter and the inevitable chaos of “John L” (broken up this time by the trio launching into a demented version of “Livin’ on a Prayer”), one shining moment from this setlist has stuck with me the most two years after the fact. While it was not the only new song performed by the boys that evening — I’m very much looking forward to a studio version of Cameron Picton’s “Askance” surfacing — for my money, the show-stopping event was what turned out to be an early version of “The Magician”, now fully realized as the unforgettable climax of Geordie Greep’s debut solo effort
The New Sound. It was a beast even when being workshopped on stage, but it’s now been stretched out to around 12 minutes, and its brilliant development as a composition points to all the ways in which Greep’s first outing under his own name is able to designate itself as a rousing success.
“My plan is to do a Keith Jarrett thing, have a different group of session musicians in a different place and lean into the fact that we’re not going to get it the same.”
In Greep’s own words, the title of his new record is comically literal.
The New Sound is composed of 11 tracks that he saw fit to carry him in an entirely new artistic direction, and while it is certainly unlike any of black midi’s releases in many respects, it also provides more evidence for Saint Neil of Peart’s pithy observation that “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” While the vast majority of music here was composed, arranged, and produced by Greep and Seth “Shank” Evans, Greep opts for a revolving door of over 20 guest musicians to paint the corners of his songwriting with flourishes of craftsmanship. Familiar faces such as the unmistakable drummer Morgan Simpson pop in for a chat on rollicking opener “Blues”, and Shank is content to emerge from behind the board once in a blue moon to contribute electric bass, keys, and even a guest vocal performance on the dizzying “Motorbike”. The decision to write and track in Såo Paulo, Brazil also has an undeniable influence on the record’s overall approach, with the end result sounding as if black midi,
Discipline-era King Crimson, and ‘70s jazz-fusion stalwarts Casiopea met at a crossroads and became hyperfixated on mambo grooves and Miles Davis’s
Sketches of Spain. The rattling percussion performances by Dennys Silva and Adé Eggún Crispin Robinson on tracks like “Terra” or the instrumental title track (not to mention mf “Bongo Season”) lend a helpful hand to the album’s overall sense of atmosphere, and contribute heavily to making the listener feel as though they are truly in the smoky rooms and dimly lit dives that Greep describes in vivid detail.
Greep’s trademark rural preacher-cum-Bugs Bunny-cum auctioneer vocals once again take center stage as he dives ever further into the lurid lyrical narratives that defined
Hellfire, with the added element of each piece’s protagonist coming off as much more pitiable and pathetic. The record lives and breathes through these broken and demoralized narrators, who are resigned to retreat back within the cold recesses of their hearts and minds, either because of the cruel hand of fate or the inevitable consequences of their debauchery. “Through A War” introduces us to a traumatized squadron leader who has truly seen it all (once you’ve heard one particular verse, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about), whose one taste of true love motivates him to abandon all else in pursuit of it, even when his reward turns out to be naught but a nasty case of the clap. “As If Waltz” spins the yarn of a man desperate for connection who is tragically only capable of it in fantasy, as his real world is dominated by sex workers, cuckoldry, and financial domination. The way Greep arranges and orchestrates his instrumentals around this storytelling is exemplary, and demonstrates the most obvious way his skills have developed since
Hellfire. “As If Waltz” is arresting in its disintegration into ethereal ballroom bliss at several points, expertly mirroring our protagonist’s retreat back into the safe prison of his mind.
Which brings us back to “The Magician”, the crown jewel of the record and one of the finest songs of 2024. Greep’s compositional and lyrical prowess undergo a sort of Vulcan mind meld on this track to create a laser-focused slow burning masterpiece. From its opening seconds, it displays a decidedly more maudlin tone than the rest of the record through its tearful main theme, noticeable slamming of the brakes in the tempo department, and its narrators’ overt grappling with the themes of regret, control, dishonesty, and disappointment. At the 4.5 minute mark, it’s as if a single solitary spotlight shines on Greep as he begins to deliver the soliloquy that defines the record, the narrator lamenting all his failed attempts at hiding from the truth as the band slowly builds up and collapses his entire life around him. It’s an astounding piece of music that has to be heard to be believed, and cements
The New Sound as a triumphant success for Greep’s burgeoning solo career. The decision to conclude the record with a cool jazz cover of Frank Sinatra’s “If You Are But A Dream” may be puzzling to some, but makes perfect sense when you remember Greep’s wry sense of humor that has thankfully carried over to this new chapter of his life. Crooning about one’s contentment to live in a fantasy after the heartbreak of “The Magician” may indicate that our hero has learned nothing, but perhaps there truly was nothing to learn once the smoke cleared. Maybe that doesn’t have to matter, as long as you are able to withdraw back into yourself, close the door behind you, and dream of a new sound.
