Review Summary: Anti-burnout movement
While working on their second album, the Chicago post-punk trio Plum decided not to follow the well-beaten path they had carved for themselves, but rather to approach the process even more creatively. Specifically, they chose to completely deconstruct it, pushing the idea to a significant degree of absurdity. Shutting themselves away in a forest cabin in Wisconsin, the musicians spent their days relying entirely on pure intuition or, conversely, imposing various limitations upon themselves. They tried composing using Tarot cards and graphic scores, through vocal improvisations in the middle of a dense thicket, or by throwing spontaneous challenges at one another.
All of this could easily pass for pretentious art therapy for indie rockers who took things a bit too far, but the resulting record is flexible, vibrant, and nervous –
Bodies in Motion – inspired by new wave classics. If their first work relied on a straightforward groove and a reliable motorik pulsation, here the band plunges headfirst into complex polyphony, relying on a virtuoso compositional approach disguised as simple punk. The compositions no longer roll along on rails: now they are given enough breathing room to intertwine, tease each other, build intricate counterpoint, and buzz around the listener like persistent wasps. This dynamic was largely made possible by their new drummer, Eric Ridder, who maintains a tight krautrock beat while leaving considerable room for maneuvers by guitarist Jeff Kelly and bassist Heather Perry.
Vocals, guitars, and percussion do not merely accompany one another; they engage in a continuous, slightly paranoid dialogue where not a single note stays in one place. This state of perpetual motion lays claim to the central theme of the record. In fact, the sweeping acceleration is set right from the opening track,
Asymmetric, which is full of playful madness, combining punk energy with elaborate instrumental interlacings. Such angularity successfully captures the listener’s attention, striving to bring us back to life through the collective dance floor.
Continuing this line on the title track, the band paints a scenario of a bizarre apocalypse: a mysterious frequency hypnotizes everyone around and forces humanity to dance until absolute exhaustion, while a chaotic chorus weaves together three independent melodies – Kelly’s voice, his guitar, and Perry’s bass – into a unified contrapuntal texture. A body set in motion can no longer be stopped – one has to maneuver despite mounting fatigue. It is precisely this feeling, running through the entire record, that gives it a catchy asymmetry, randomness, and imperfection.
The resulting musical freedom organically flows into the funky energy of tracks like
Born Anew and
Déja Vu, where the band retains its punk drive but enriches it with inventive instrumental interplay, while
Can Jam develops the rhythmic line through infectious percussion. The record never drops its momentum, remaining in constant motion and offering unexpected textural twists. Thus, the guitars in
Not Out of Mind acquire a nearly psychedelic multilayeredness, preferring an intriguing, vaguely outlined amorphousness. A counterweight is provided by
Too Much Sunlight, which accurately captures the nervousness and senseless hustle of modernity – a state where we have forgotten how to simply enjoy the moment, such as sitting quietly in the sun, while the guitar frantically darts around within the track’s compositional framework.
The funky impulse is picked up by
Obscurity, after which the cool melodies in
Memory create an upbeat atmosphere. Toward the finale, the mood shifts: in
Club Scum, Heather Perry takes her rightful place at the microphone, diluting the album’s caffeine-fueled pulse, while things conclude with
Faster, Brighter, filled with nervous rhythms and vocal gasps.
This sharp, angular, and slightly disheveled record refuses to sit still, compelling you to move along with it. After all, it is physical movement that can help liberate us from the ailments of modernity with its depressions, burnouts, anxieties, and the exhausting urge to be in a state of constant connectivity.
Bodies in Motion sounds tight, smart, and infectious, making your hand reach out on its own to turn up the volume and break into a dance while no one is watching.
