Album Review: Circulatory System - Signal Morning

In terms of rock ‘n roll time, an eight-year break is an eternity. Unless a band spends eight years recording a masterpiece or otherwise nursing a killer reunion tour, chances are the rest of the music world has moved on by the time it resurfaces. Then again, Circulatory System (and most Elephant Six constituents in general) seems to operate outside of the traditional rock ‘n roll time continuum anyhow.

Formed by Will Cullen Hart in 2000 (after his other main project, Olivia Tremor Control decided to take a breather), Circulatory System stands as another loose conglomeration of Elephant Six buds. In 2001, the group released it’s eponymous debut—a colossal helping of psychedelic guitars, smart orchestration, and loads ‘o quirk—along with a “remix” of that album in the same year, but has maintained radio silence ever since. So why has Hart waited until 2009 to post a follow-up? Well, the singer attributes the interruption to multiple sclerosis, a condition he was diagnosed with a few years back. The event purportedly delayed the construction of Signal Morning, but also stirred the Olivia Tremor Control camp to start playing together again (!). Hart seems to have strayed away from the project naturally as well, letting other interests fill the void in the interim.

Given that lengthy gap, and in the interest of evaluating Signal Morning fairly, a lot of potential avenues of analysis are somewhat skewed. For starters, Circulatory System isn’t trying to make a career out of this music—it sounds more like friends coming together to capture energy on tape to share it with like-minded friends and fans alike. With intentions like that, who cares if this record doesn’t “measure up” in any traditional sense? Hart also admits that the chronology of songwriting varies heavily, with some of the initial demos dating as far back as 1993. So to compare Hart’s ideas circa 2001 to their 2009 iteration is somewhat baseless.

Keeping those qualifications in mind, let’s get down to it: At their core, Circulatory System and Signal Morning overlap heavily in terms of aesthetics (*see previous note about songwriting chronology). Hart’s distinctive voice is as alluring as ever, the album embraces lo-fi elements without glorifying them, and there’s a healthy mix of melodicism, abstraction, and hypnogogic reverie. There’s more straight-up noise on Signal Morning [“This Morning (We Remembered Everything)”; “The Pelican Trust”], along with a decidedly more somber tone, but it’s just as charmingly piecemeal as its predecessor. Opener “Woodpecker Greeting Worker Ant” and mid-disc jam “The Spinning Continuous” especially channel the sort of boundless vigor that typifies so many great Elephant Six recordings.

If the circumstances were a bit different though, it would be easier to say that Signal Morning is too unfocused, and somewhat lacking in new ideas from Hart. But the eight-year gap privileges the artist in ways it wouldn’t for others: It’s definitely long enough to justify a similar-sounding record (hey, it’s “new”), especially when the quality of that material is already of a high caliber. And as far as veteran Elephant Six material goes, maybe we should just be glad this exists before taking any cheap shots at it.

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Alliteration Monday: Best Coast

Bummer.

Jams of '09: Vivre Sans Temps Mort

The merits "Vivre Sans Temps Mort" are actually pretty well-reflected in the music video: There's a progression through a three (arguably four) episodes that all tie together nicely, yet remain discrete enough to justify distinction: boy buys model car; boy builds model car; model car reappears in milieu of destruction and chaos (and by the apparent volition of its creator, no less). I'm particularly keen on the middle section of the song (2:00-4:02), which somehow transforms a series of one-note jabs into the catchiest idea this side of early Q and Not U. Between the amble of the contemplative introduction and the swift, exciting conclusion, the middle passage brings a palpable sense of tension to a song that's already about everyone's favorite subject ("Spent my whole life just thinking about dying," in case you didn't catch it before).

And here comes the overblown image/music/lyric connection: like the largely stylized ending of the video (a car crash that has been, oooh, constructed), the music can only ever be a lurid, unreal representation of that terminal anticipation. We can watch the boy buy the kit and use the kit, but it's still just a model. In essence: we don't see an actual car crash because that's not what the song is about--it's about the imagination.

If there's any validity to that point though, credit goes to director Cat Solen, not necessarily Double Dagger. Killer song though, right?

Discoveries Worth Sharing: Behind On My Memes Edition

Next time you see this video, it'll be on television.

Beat.Connection: Sugah Hill?!!

I scored I wonderful copy of the Grandmaster Flash cut here today -- $5 on Avenue of the Americas.

Apparently Liquid Liquid played a show at Santos Party House last year that I never heard about--hopefully not their last. I'd love to see these fellas play, maybe even moreso than Melle Mel...

Alliteration Monday: Mika Miko

Alliteration Monday: Major Lazer

Favorite Songs of the '00s, #2: "Bolan Muppets," Glissandro 70

By the look of it, Glissandro 70 is one of those projects that seems more of a one-off than anything else, despite a fair amount of evidence to support the contrary. The facts: the Canadian duo of Craig Dunsmuir and Sandro Perri released a lovely eponymous debut in 2006, played about 11 shows in Toronto (six in 2008), and have remained pretty much dormant thereafter. They're still on a label, and Sandro Perri has a questionably active blog, but no one seems in any rush to make a go at the crown.

The song featured here--Bolan Muppets--is one of five strong tracks on Glissandro 70 (there's only five on the LP, mind you), and though I feel it stands alone, it probably works best in context of the other pieces (oh well). Like the rest of the debut, the song is as heavily indebted to minimalism as it is to post-rock; it just sort of floats from A to B without any larger structural repetitions, making the most of fewer ideas. I've worn the song out to the point where the late bassline (3:12) doesn't hit the spot as well as it did in '06, but I wish you luck with it.

What I like best about the piece, and why it's included here, is it's music that requires a process. Perhaps I lend too much credit to methodical overlays than I should, but there is a supremely satisfying feeling when instruments 1 through 7 suddenly interlock unexpectedly, and then melt away into something entirely different. It's the same principle that guides most great DFA cuts, though obviously operating under its own set of intentions. The whole "music as process" bit is also particularly difficult to do right, so pay mind where mind is due.

(To see the previous "favorite song" entry, click here.)