black midi – Schlagenheim

Review

Here's a little story: Imagine you're chasing after an erratic ice cream truck that occasionally transforms into a circus tent, complete with feral clowns. You've got one hand on a Rubik's Cube and the other wielding a tactical synthesizer. That's precisely how "Schlagenheim," the debut album by Black Midi, rolls. Here we have a mad hodgepodge of math rock, jazz fusion, and other less definable yet equally chaotic elements. These lads use every instrument within arm’s reach, from banjos to drum machines, as if daring you to label what you're hearing. Deciphering the sound is like wrestling an armadillo; you may come away scratched, but somehow uplifted.

Let's paint a picture involving the band: Armed with the technical prowess of knights at a prog-rock jousting tournament, drummer Morgan Simpson and crew catapult their skills into tracks like "Reggae" and "Western." It's like witnessing a ballerina dance a jig on a high wire above Tarzan’s jungle. Some argue they're lost in technical wizardry, with emotions playing hide-and-seek to nowhere in particular. Fear not, naysayers, for the compositions have layers thicker than my Aunt Agnes' fruitcake. Lush yet abrupt; tracks like "Of Schlagenheim" may not immediately evoke Hallmark sentiments but are a testament to musical adolescence grown wild. On my infallible scale of chaotic tornadoes to orderly loaves of pumpernickel bread, it lands somewhere near a lovely wedge of clash magnetism. Take it or leave it, "Schlagenheim" signals not just a debut but a delightful call to attention. - Clarence