When Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley joined the lineup of Disappears on drums it seemed to indicate the band was primed to undergo another big surge in growth. Instead, their latest Pre Language is far more concerned with refinement.
On their 2010 debut album Lux, Chicago’s Disappears spat out ten songs of melodic rock that referenced post-punk, shoegaze, and Krautrock. While not straining to reinvent any wheels, it was a solid debut record, hinting at untapped potential that boded well for the band’s future, in particular the album’s closer “No Other,” a short, slowed-down “Sister Ray” rip filtered through the attitude of late-‘80s Creation Records.
2011’s Guider delivered on that promise, but not in the expected way. Where Lux’s appealing blend of influences never strayed far from the succinct in delivery, with no song topping the four minute mark, Guider entertained the possibilities of extendedness, ending with the mightily impressive nearly sixteen minute “Revisting,” the excursion drawing equally upon Can in “Yoo Doo Right” mode and the fried sensibility of Spacemen 3. If surprising, it was also quite welcome. While the five tracks leading up to it were in the same terse framework as the debut, they were detectably rougher in presentation, with Brian Case’s vocal manner suggesting the prime post-Pistols work of John Lydon.
Pre Language denies the tranced-out expanse of “Revisting,” the band instead largely choosing to further explore the sonic terrain of Lux and the first side of Guider. Initially this is something of a disappointment, for Guider’s long denouement seemed to indicate Disappears were ready to jump wholeheartedly into a zone roughly comparable to San Francisco’s Wooden Shjips. But if the first impression is one of relative restraint, Pre Language does possess an energetic cohesion coupled with bigger production and sharper instrumental prowess certainly aided by the presence of Shelley, his unimpeachable chops having synched with the band through shows in the US and Europe (including support on former Neu! member Michael Rother’s Hallogallo tour).
Opener “Replicate” immediately recalls Joy Division, and the rather conventional feel of its chorus’ guitar bursts bring to mind a heavier, less vocally dominated version of Interpol. It’s a strong opener, but it quickly portends the direction that Pre Language, with a couple notable and much needed exceptions, follows with precision.
In some ways the switch of drummers has far less to do with sticks hitting skins than it does with a sharp contrast in production. Departing drummer Graeme Gibson had also served the band in the capacity of producer, and he gave both Lux and particularly Guider a bath in reverb that made the music feel a bit distant, even when turned up loud. Shelley’s arrival plops them down in Sonic Youth’s Echo Canyon West studio with John Congleton (The Polyphonic Spree, St. Vincent) at the knobs, and the difference is significant. Formerly fuzzy and occasionally muddy, the music now delivers more punch while also holding an increase in polish, even when it’s dishing out the distortion.
And this shift in production quality causes Disappears’ music to register in a somewhat different way. Where previously their song’s melodic tendencies were leavened with appealing waves of guitar drone and an interest in rock’s experimental traditions, on Pre Language they largely feel like the work of an edgy contemporary indie rock band. And again, this is initially a disappointing circumstance. But after a few listens it becomes clear that the songs are uniformly solid and the presentation, while streamlined, hasn’t been neutered. If disappointment nags, two standout tracks show this is still the same band that made such a favorable impression with “Revisiting.”
The first is “Joa”, a sweet bout of rhythmic repetition that holds a chilly, incessant post-punk tension. At nearly six minutes long, it shows that one of Disappears best attributes continues to be their ability stretch out, a process that can turn a good idea into a great one.
This trait also plays a factor in Pre Language’s other highpoint “Love Drug,” and it’s no accident that it happens to be the second longest track on the album. It opens with a menacing riff, pulsing bass and Shelley slapping out a simple, incessant beat; when Case enters vocally, he does little more than moan/chant the song’s title. And that’s all that’s needed. It’s a sturdy exercise greatly enhanced through escalated intensity, the track’s second half being punctuated with a wicked ruckus of guitar pedals and crashing cymbals.
If different on the surface, Pre Language and Guider are similar tactically, their boldest moves back-loaded in the track order. While neither “Joa” nor “Love Drug” (even collectively) equal “Revisting” in terms of scope and sheer pleasurable impact, the goal still seems the same; to first establish Disappears’ dominant melodic paradigm and then embellish it with stylistic detours. On Pre Language these divergences are very impressive, but on the previous record they’d frankly proved capable of delivering the exceptional.
Also, that melodic paradigm has shifted here, being much more about the establishment of mood. If Lux and Guider announced the band was conversant with the Velvets, Can, and Spacemen 3, it also flashed moments that recalled The Clean, Ride, and yeah, Public Image Limited. That range has been whittled down, their Krautrock and shoegaze tendencies greatly reduced. The emphasis now feels firmly on the post-punk.
This style of moodiness is often expressed through lyrical stance and vocal mannerisms, and Case has a nice handle on the latter, but in regard to the former he seems far more inclined to let the band’s instrumental prowess set the tone. If his vocal model has shifted somewhat from Lydon to one Mark E. Smith (with a dollop of Ian Curtis added in for good measure), that’s okay, since it’s apparent he’s disinclined to dominate the tunes through playing the role of front-man. Also, it seems that Case, formerly of Chicago tunesmiths The Ponys (and 90 Day Men), has at least temporarily lost interest in indulging the poppier side of his personality. This would be fine if moments like “Joa” and “Love Drug” were more frequent, but that’s not the case.
Strangely, closer “Brother Joliene” sounds a bit like Spoon shooting for a beefed-up, distorted Stooges/Sonic Youth synthesis. Maybe not so strange, considering Shelley, and even less so when it’s recalled that Spoon’s name references a Can song. No matter; Pre Language is a solid, at times very good record, but it leaves a lingering impression that Disappears are holding back their best qualities.
Graded on a Curve: B-
