Erototox Decodings – 1st March 2024
Christopher Nosnibor
Holy hell! Where to start? We’ll come to the band’s pedigree and the CVs of this supergroup in due course. But first, the immediate impact of this second album by The Children – that’s what hits in an instant. Perhaps because I missed the first, I simply wasn’t prepared in the way I might have been, but then again, is there any adequate preparation in advance of this?
A stark acoustic guitar – something about the way it’s picked and pulled is sharp, tense, scratchy, in the opening bars of ‘gOd is a Bereaved’ is prickly, awkward – paves the way for an eye-opening vocal performance. It simply doesn’t conform to the mores of conventional musicality, and instead flies skyward and swoops towards the ground in terrifying, unnatural flips and arcs. Something is certainly sudden, and it’s not a craving, but the impact of this completely out-there sound. Intense is an understatement.
‘Woven Mother Aflame’ brings brooding atmospherics split asunder by explosive percussion – a snare that has the power to split skulls cutting through serpentine strings and heavy, resonant bass reverberations which hang in the air, before the gentler ‘Breathing Shards’ fades electronics into a strummed acoustic guitar. Breathe… out. But all is not comfortable. The quavering vocals – not quite falsetto, not quite any specific range, but warbling, tremulous – quiver, uncomfortably atop and amidst the multi-layered backdrop which slopes and slides and traverses through starless space as basslines stroll and amble sedately.
Some background: The Children… ‘are . They have been making music together for over 15 years. Former Barkmarket bassist John Nowlin and drummer Rock Savage have consistently anchored the rhythm section, with a savagely airtight groove that’s both thunderous and mellifluous, primal and funky, and cellist Kirsten McCord has regularly enriched the band’s sound with her somber, lulling phrasing as a one-woman string section. John Andersen was a founding member and key early collaborator. The inimitable vocalist Shelley Hirsch has been a visceral contrapuntal foil for several live shows. Former Swans guitarist Norman Westberg and clarinetist Johnny Gasper provided invaluable texture to the recording sessions for this LP.
Norman Westberg has long been one of my favourite guitarists on account of his absolute minimalism: few guitarists would be content to bludgeon away at two chords for eight minutes straight, but his stoic patience is a rare trait which sets him in a league of his own. His more recent solo work is noteworthy for his sculpting feedback into musical shapes, and as such, his magnificently understated contribution to this album is essential.
Then again, how really to assimilate this? Our instinct, as humans, is to trust what we know, to lean into the familiar, the comfortable. This is perhaps why so much conformist pop, accessible blues-rock, landfill indie, continues to command so much appreciation. It’s not even that it’s easy and comfortable, but that it sits within an established framework with which people are comfortable – and the same, unsurprisingly, applies to people. ‘Weirdos’ are ostracised, and find themselves on the fringes, alone. People find ‘otherness’ simply too much of a challenge. Who can honestly say they haven’t taken a step back and made effort to put distance between themselves and a ‘crazy’ in their lives or on social medial? No shame in it: life is difficult as it is, and you have to have limits on who and what you can accommodate. But the point stands: other peoples’ disturbances create further disturbances. And A Sudden Craving sounds pretty disturbed.
A Sudden Craving is the sound of otherness. Yes, the vocals in particular are difficult to process. They sound… well, deranged. Wailing theatrically in a howling whorl of chaos and discord, underpinned by a hypnotic wave and monotonous plod of percussion, they really stand out as the definition of mania. ‘Breathing Shards’ may be mellower, but still possesses a sharp, jarring edge.
A Sudden Craving is scary because it doesn’t conform to any norms. Every one of the album’s ten tracks is unsettling, uncomfortable, unpredictable. It has depth and detail and many great qualities. Comfort and ease of access are not among then.
A Sudden Craving is a great album. It is not an accessible album, or an album which is comfortable or easy in any way. But then it’s not designed to be. It’s a head-shredding riot which really delivers some uncomfortable moments. At times I’m reminded of late Scott Walker. It’s compelling, and it’s quality, but one to file under ‘W’ for ‘Weird Shit’.
AA
Aural Aggravation 