Melbourne, Australia-born and Reykjavík, Iceland-based, Ben Frost returns to the forefront of experimental composition with his first album in seven years, incorporating electronic elements and industrial atmospheres with infusions of noise and even metallic textures. This last aspect is especially prevalent across Scope Neglect, the record’s fascinating sonic excursions simultaneously familiar and alien, caustic and meditative. Following a limited edition white vinyl release on January 11, the black vinyl, compact disc, and digital are all available now via Mute Records.
Ben Frost made his inroads into the music scene early in this century, self-releasing the CDr EP “Music for Sad Children” in 2001 and making a bigger splash with Steel Wound, which was issued by the Room40 label in 2003. Like many of his experimental contemporaries, he’s amassed an expansive discography, both solo and with numerous collaborators, prolific amongst them Lawrence English, Daníel Bjarnason, Nico Muhly, Tim Hecker, Colin Stetson, and Swans. A significant portion of this work has been composed for film and television, along with dance performances and operas.
For his new record, Frost’s has chosen guitarist Greg Kubacki of the New York band Car Bomb and bassist Liam Andrews of Australian act My Disco to assist in the realization of his vision. Kubacki is front and center in Scope Neglect’s opener “Lamb Shift,” a two and a half minute succession of metal miniatures (with just a touch of electronic residue) that grind and lurch and pause but never manage sustained forward motion.
Functioning not as a subversion or a deconstruction but instead as an overlay of variation and repetition, “Lamb Shift” connects organically (rather than clinically) and also serves as a prelude to “Chimera,” where similar start-stop-start metal-isms are present but used to decidedly different effect as part of a dystopian electronic-tinged landscape.
“The River of Light and Radiation” is a mélange of chunky metallic throb-pound, ceaseless rhythmic flow, bursts of distorted electronic overload (suggesting a studio invasion by Kid 606), and splashes of ’80s synth-poppy keyboards. Unsurprisingly, there are wild shifts, but it still connects as one beautifully fucked up, stylistically suggestive yet elusive thing. From there, “_1993,” with its ambient surge pulsations, takes a deeper turn toward the cinematic, but with an avant twist insinuating the stitching and looping of snippets.
“Turning the Prism” aggressively manipulates metallic environments into a hazy hectic turbulence that’s resistant to being flattened by an unseen force. This rising and falling tug of war fits with Scope Neglect’s consistent pushback against encapsulation. “Load up on Guns, Bring Your Friends” begins with (what sounds like) field recordings, the track’s distended and feverish unfurling anxious without tipping over into outright menace.
“Tritium Bath” offers a metal panorama similar to “Turning the Prism,” but with less resistance this time. Instead, there is a recurring sound element in the mix suggesting a thumb piano, this addition strengthening Scope Neglect’s reality as human music. And nowhere is that humanity more apparent than in the set’s finale “Unreal in the Eyes of the Dead,” the track’s foundation an unwavering (and again cinematic) bass pulse.
All tension and no release, “Unreal in the Eyes of the Dead” unwinds like the work of a group of individuals (maybe a band, maybe not) sans overt studio fuckery. That’s not to say the Frost’s presence isn’t still dominant, as the piece is very much an extension of Scope Neglect’s overall terrain. It’s a welcome return from this estimable manipulator of formidable sounds.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
