Boston's Big Bear (not the proprietor of the 1998 opus Doin' Thangs) have closed up shop after their 5-year span with not only the See Out EP, but with a followup to their Monitor Records debut as well. In comparison to that debut, Big Bear didn't undergo any drastic modifications-- though, like Daughters' final effort, abandoned the hardcore bravado in turn for a noise rock leaning.
Under The Beach is as disorienting as its untitled and out-of-order tracklist entails, abundant with bent and damaged guitar chords, stuttering rhythmic patterns, malfunctioning keyboards and-- to further escalate the Daughters comparison-- vocalist Jordyn Bonds's hellish shrieks have morphed into detached hollers. Big Bear's complete disregard for melody is something to commend-- harmony and virtuosity are recognized from the very beginning, yet avoid comprehensibility and instead take part in discordant rituals. The name, Big Bear, is very accommodating: it depicts the primal nature of the music, yet it denotes their sense of quirkiness and absence of sobriety, too.
The only blemish on Under The Beach is its dearth of variety: in small doses, like the accompanying EP, Big Bear's chaos becomes absolutely essential. At 45 minutes, the arrangements, musicianship, atonality, and vocal inflection within each song begin to overlap and echo, creating an obstacle of differentiation. A few components escape from this identity crisis, though: a handclap-smitten breakdown on "Song 20," a shouted vocal duet on "Song 19," an emphasis of guitar feedback on "Song 22," which are enough to diminish the apples-to-apples challenge.
Big Bear's departure is saddening, but they've done enough to reconcile with two immensely solid efforts-- both in the attributable sense and sonically. Exerting an impenetrably dissonant force, the band's last breath Under The Beach signs off on an incredibly high note, albeit an abrasive one.
[Big Bear Myspace]
[Buy Under The Beach from Joyful Noise]
No comments:
Post a Comment