Brooklyn-based experimental punk/ noise rock duo Cinema Cinema has been active on the scene since 2008. Mjölnir is their seventh full-length, coming out July 14 on vinyl in an edition of 250 and digital on Nefarious Industries. For the album, cousins Ev Gold (guitar/ vocals) and Paul Claro (drums/ percussion/ wind) are joined by the estimable Thor Harris (synths/ percussion/ drums), and the results—raw, heavy and inspired, recall the dangerous, in-your-face side of underground rock. Fittingly, it was recorded at BC Studio in NYC with producer Martin Bisi.
To an extent, Cinema Cinema can be assessed by the company they keep. They’ve toured with Greg Ginn’s Black Flag (plus Ginn’s other outfits The Royal We and The Taylor Texas Corrugators), they’ve previously worked with harDCore production mainstay Don Zientara and with Mjölnir’s producer and studio host Martin Bisi on earlier occasions (having appeared in and contributed to the soundtrack for the documentary on Bisi and his work Sound and Chaos: The Story of BC Studio), and for Mjölnir, they’ve welcomed into their creative fold Thor Harris, who’s known in part for his work with Swans.
But Cinema Cinema’s associations don’t define them, which is to say the sound that Ev Gold and Paul Claro conjure isn’t a mere amalgamation of influences. Illustrating their breadth, Mjölnir’s opening track “This Dream” dishes a swirling and reverberating pool of post-Industrial anxiety complete with growling vocal menace. It sounds nearer to the edgier output from Bristol UK than music from the old, scary NYC.
It’s “War on You” that dishes out what used to be tagged in noise rock circles as aggro, but with tendrils of electronics still attached (Harris’ input is considerably felt). The track’s forward motion is clearly spawned from punk lineage as Gold story-tells and rants (and even whispers) up a maelstrom. Next, “Walk Into the Ocean” ratchets up an apocalyptic atmosphere and eventually grows tribal, but maybe the cut’s most impressive quality is the short stretch where the strength of Gold’s singing voice becomes manifest.
“Zero Sum,” spreading out to nearly eight minutes, productively showcases the group’s range, the cut hovering and lurching and roaring and churning and wailing. Thudding and squealing and even rocking, too, as the ambiance is consistently dark. And add that Gold’s vocals consistently present narratives reinforcing the appropriateness of their name.
Next is “Info Ghetto,” a relatively calm rhythm kicker with a subtle undercurrent of late-period Fugazi (dubby aspects enhance this facet), and then “My Vision of the Future” finds Claro (and maybe Harris) going drumkit crazy at the start as keyboards cascade in the back end. The whole way through Gold is jawboning like a champ.
After a methodical windup, “Riverheads” effectively establishes Cinema Cinema’s rock bona fides, serving as an effective lead-in to Mjölnir’s closer and its other big spreader (breaking eight minutes), “Voiceless Idaho.” As multifaceted as expected, the track even offers a stretch that cozies up to a little metallic sludge/doom. Altogether, the record avoids a sense of retread as Gold’s varied enunciations don’t falter into the florid or the overly theatrical. And Mjölnir grows with repeated listens.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
