Experimental music isn’t for everyone. The clash of instruments ““ embellished (or overburdened) by the producer’s touch ““ risks creating noise that sounds far removed from actual music. It can be hard to swallow.
Parts & Labor’s latest album “Receivers,” like experimental rock, isn’t for everyone, especially not the casual listener.
“Receivers” can be summed up by the album’s artwork. A drawing of a topless piano with various appendages coming out at you, some of which are shooting out hundreds of tiny, fragmented, colorful paintings, is beautiful at first sight but has too much happening at once for it to be truly affecting. With all of the attachments and accessories, what was once a piano is unrecognizable and becomes foreign and ugly, resembling a horrible car wreck leaving you wondering what the object could have been. The music, like the artwork, is convoluted.
The opening track, “Satellites,” sets the tone for the rest of the album. It merges every sound at once making it impossible to follow any of the actual instruments. The intricate drumming is the highlight of the song but it is soon drowned out by all of the electronics involved with this rough seven-minute opener. The last few seconds of “Satellites,” like the last few seconds of every song on this eight-track album, lead into the succeeding song. With no breaks, the album is able to flow flawlessly without confusing the end of one song and the start of another.
The final seconds of “Satellites” turn into “Nowheres Nigh,” which is faster-paced and speaks of our insatiable desire to reap the world of its resources ““ eventually leading to the “death of nations.”
The lines of “Nowheres Nigh,” as well as all of the album’s lyrics, are wonderfully poetic. They are meaningfully intelligent and burst with imagery. “The Ceasing Now,” another mountain of exploding noise more than 7 minutes long, pieces together the image that “we bite the mouths off our emotions and light the days on fire.”
Lines such as this prove that “Receivers” is not an album to be listened to lightly. It must be broken down and studied in order to take in everything it has to offer, an aspiration that is practically unattainable.
The band’s powerful words are often lost among the heavy noise. The few times in which they are heard, they’re delivered by vocalists Dan Friel’s and BJ Warshaw’s robotic voices. While this may make a statement on how we, as consumers, are excessively reliant on technology, it’s simply unattractive to hear.
On the other hand, the intro to “Wedding in a Wasteland” presents the listener with what I assume an electric bagpipe would sound like ““ which is brilliant. This unique sound stands on its own without any background noise to detract from it. It does not require any embellishments and, unlike the majority of the album, doesn’t receive any.
“Receivers” has massive potential. All eight songs stream so perfectly together that it would be a shame to listen to them on shuffle. The words, when heard, implant moving pictures and force listeners to re-evaluate their daily actions. But the album is overproduced and therefore overwhelming. Every component is independently beautiful but none are fully understood when fused together.
Parts & Labor shares its genre with luminaries TV on the Radio and Deerhoof, both of which they’ve toured with, in a world of music where it seems there’s no such thing as too much noise. But there is. There must be purpose to this noise. While “Receivers” has good intentions, it doesn’t serve its full purpose and encompasses such a throbbing volume of noise that it delivers a flat sound undeserving of its message.
““ Saba Mohtasham
E-mail Saba at smohtasham@media.ucla.edu.