With V of Horrors
The Horrors are not accustomed to sit still. Even in eufonías individual, the new sounds and instruments are placed constantly in place and vanish, like ghosts, each one performing their role in a modular system that sees spirits chocarreros deformed in the form of distresses: songs horrifying.
This approach to random composition extends naturally to its varied catalogue of albums.The acre garage/goth debut Strange House (2007) was cold as a corpse, stripped of his mask lethal and twisted in a completely different mold, to become the end of the statement defining the group: Primary Colors (2009).
Which sounded so alarming at the Luminous of 2014 was that its quality was lower, a disk more similar to the previous efforts of the Skying (2011). Its airy mix of guitars saturated with reverb and synthesizers was certainly pleasant, but the inexorable feeling of progress that prevailed behind the previous launches had disappeared.
That thrilling dynamism returns for its fifth album, V (Xxxxx, 2017), which was announced by the stuttering of waste industrial with the one that opens the first single, “Machine.” The band has not sounded so guttural and raw since his debut and even when the track plummets into a structure more familiar, that feeling of chaos still lurks just beneath the surface, beneath the tombs of a cemetery of sound.
Such bravery chocarrera attenuates the album, with songs that are transformed in an instant. The relaxed pace of “Point of No Reply” quickly, climb aboard a spaceship and disappears around a track for three minutes, avoiding the attempts to bring it back to the Ground and achieve the full orbit at the end of the song.
The guitars are changed to the settings funk and folk in “Press Enter to Exit” and “Gathering”, while “Weighed Down” creates a rhythm tribal when their lead singer, Faris Badwan, captive to a lover trapped under the branches of “Something to Remember Me By.” The letters, here and in all parts, fuse together disparate sounds with unifying themes of despair and depersonalization. Badwan reduces its characters to holograms and robots, shadows of themselves, which often fade completely: the synthesizer propellant that propels “It’s a Good Life” masks lyrics terribly depressing about the loneliness and the suicide: “She lay in the dark, / But I don’t know who found her”.
Sonic and letrísticamente, the album feels like a conscious withdrawal of the sensitivities pop group, with ten cuts that defy the classification of gender easy. The of The Horrors is music to fill in dark cellars instead of stadiums.