ALBUM REVIEW: Liturgy – 93696


 

When it comes to describing 93696 (Thrill Jockey), the latest album by Liturgy, one could just as well start by describing what this album is not. It is not a record to easily put on in the background and definitely not a go-to if you want to reduce your anxiety. Pretty much the opposite is true. This is a record screaming in your ears for attention, that induces anxiety all along the way. 

That said, it’s pretty cool, if altogether a fairly draining experience. 

 

Masterminded by Haela Ravenna Hunt-Hendrix, who provides lead vocals, guitar (and most likely various electronic textures and trickery that form a key part of the album’s sound), significant musical support comes from guitarist Mario Miron, bassist Tia Vincent- Clark, and drummer Leo Didkovsky. So while conceptually this is Hunt-Hendrix’s baby, you’ll have no doubt you’re listening to a fully formed band, with many of these tracks a huge maelstrom of frequent, powerful drum bursts, Sonic Youth/black metal-style tremolo guitar whirlwinds and some very satisfyingly churning basslines, at times reminiscent of Melvins or Jesus Lizard

 

The acapella intro of ‘Daily Bread’, with its gospel allusions—that builds with light piano chords and drones—is partially misleading, given the screaming cacophony of much of this album. That said there are numerous delicate interludes, whether more choral passages or the lonely, tremolo-soaked organ sounds of ‘Angel of Hierarchy’, or the sombre, orchestral effects of ‘Angel of Individuation’.

 

Notice a lot of religious references? Well, this is no surprise with the album title being a number derived from Christianity and Thelema (aside from knowing that Aleister Crowley has some connection to the latter, I’m not qualified to say more on that).  

 

While the conceptual base for this pretty gigantic musical statement (eighty-two minutes!) indicates a lot of thought went into the album’s construction, you’ll definitely want a lyric sheet to pick apart the words, because for the heavier numbers be prepared for relentless, incomprehensible screaming. The vocal style is one of the most tiring aspects of the album. It does fit the music, but it can feel pretty punishing (though maybe that’s the plan). 

 

In case it wasn’t clear: this is not a “fun” record. However, though the assault can get overwhelming at times, like on the nine punishing minutes of ‘Haelegen II’, this is a varied record. You just have to be prepared to be put through the ringer for long periods at a time. 

 

The apparent lack of concern as to the mental fortitude of the listener, combined with unexpected shifts into cool headbanging riffs (such as on ‘Ananon’) brings to mind a less psychedelic and (slightly) less deranged Today Is The Day – a reference point that also comes out in some of the album’s quirky textures, like the weird electronic glitch that gets employed from time to time, making it sound like a skipping CD player. 

 

Today Is The Day associations are perhaps strongest on the quite-frankly majestic title track and its powerful sludge metal, reminiscent of Steve Austin and Co’s sprawling Sadness Will Prevail record. Starting out with some great tom-work on the drums (a la Kyuss’s ‘Demon Cleaner’), the track also touches on bass-heavy Melvins sludge metal—not to mention the cool use of chiming bells. This track really pushes home what Liturgy is capable of.  

 

 

‘Antigone II’ is another sprawling epic towards the end of the album, showcasing some almost King Crimson-esque Frippertronics-style guitar interplay. When the band chooses to rock out they do it with aplomb. 

 

Altogether this is an extremely uneasy listening experience, and while the unrelenting screaming and black metal battery can grate sometimes, by the end of the record the feeling isn’t just respect for the wilful execution, but actually not just a small amount of genuine enjoyment. Not to be put on just before bed, but you know what? This seems to be art. 

 

Buy the album here: https://liturgy.bandcamp.com/album/93696 

 

8 / 10 

 

TOM OSMAN