Osees – ‘Intercepted Message’ album review: a study in synth
Few artists are as changeable as Osees. The same project has comprised John Dwyer’s solo freak folk compilation Orinoka Crash Suite in the late 1990s and early 2000s, the garage rock sound of The Oh Sees in the late 2000s and 2010s, and, now, Osees’ bookend sound as “early grade garage pop meets proto-synth punk suicide-repellant”. As that mantra suggests, Dwyer is at his most liberated and that results in a daring effort.
The prolific San Francisco outfit have unveiled their latest offering, Intercepted Message, via iconic garage rock label In The Red Records. Dwyer dubs the album “a pop record for tired times sugared with bits of shatterproof glass to put more crack in your strap”. A record for those “suffering from politic amnesia” and “bored of AI-generated pop slop”, the album sees them move in yet another direction, at last embracing a verse/chorus structure and the “weathered thesaurus”.
It’s always best to expect the unexpected with Osees, and Intercepted Message is no exception. Abandoning the sound of their egg punk-focused record A Foul Form, released just last year, Osees’ 27th studio record sees them channel synth and psych influences into 40 minutes of agitated fun. The silliness begins with the sprawling opening track, ‘Stunner’, a sprightly song which combines psychedelic and punk-infused guitars with pulsing, danceable drums. Over the agitated instrumentals, Dwyer declares, “You look so beautiful”. The opener sets the tone for the album’s agitated but optimistic, upbeat flavour.
This frantic energy seems to permeate the album, which infuses its synths with punk sensibilities. Abrasive vocals are pasted over instrumentals that are at once playful and eerie. Between screeching, ascending and whirring guitars, a steady beat keeps the pace for Dwyer to whisper unintelligible lyrics over anxious breathing sounds in ‘Blank Chems’. The anxiety only continues into the bleeping of the lead single and title track ‘Intercepted Message’, which channels 1980s post-punk and new wave in its vocals and use of oscillating, discordant synths. The song is a statement against the false security of contemporary society, declaring, “The system wants you to feel free, but you’ll not succeed”.
The record is full of contemporary anxiety – truly one for tired times – with aggressive expletives, panicked vocals, and stress-inducing repetition. This album itself is just as changeable as the band – on the quirky ‘Die Laughing’, they get mysterious with whirring, alien-like synths punctuated by repeated “ooh ah” vocalisations. The song is placed back to back with the summery, psych-influenced twangs of ‘Unusual & Cruel’, only emphasising their dissimilarity. Dwyer’s lyrics detail the unusual, cruel nature of light and love, openly declaring the agitated undercurrent driving the album with the line, “I was filled with anxious feeling”.
Dwyer may have proclaimed the record to be a work of pop, but aside from the popular themes of anxiety, it’s anything but. Synths permeate the record, but they’re squeaky, frantic and sleazy rather than radio-friendly. There are more subdued moments, however, with ‘Chaos Heart’ offering the perfect example, a track which would feel right at home in a coming-of-age film. But still, Osees retain their commitment to experimenting. ‘The Fish Needs A Bike’, for instance, is agitated and dissonant, unrelentingly repetitive. There is certainly no adhering to traditional verse/chorus structure here.
After a torrent of tracks delivers self-assured vocals and flustered soundscapes in equal measure, Dwyer and his bandmates provide a moment of calm after the storm in the record’s final moments. Putting their agitation to the side, the final two tracks comprise seven minutes of soft synths and a cover of a famous piece of hold music. It’s a hugely welcome change of pace and a moment of catharsis.
In those final moments, we hear Dwyer at his most vulnerable, lamenting, “When I hear you crying baby, I kind of lose my mind, everything goes hazy”. As the anxiety subsides, you’re almost on the edge of your seat, waiting for the moment the psych and synths kick back in, but that moment never comes. Instead, the familiar sounds of ‘Opus Number 1′ fade in. Ending the record with a cover of a song recorded on a four-track tape recorder in 1989, which has become widely used as hold music, is a bold choice, one that few others could pull off. Somehow, it works – at odds with Osees’ sound while tying together the thematic undercurrent of anxiety. For some, the sound of hold music may be all the more agitating than the caustic noise that precedes it.
The latest entry into Osees’ ever-changing sound, Intercepted Message is primarily a study of synth in all of its glory. It contains elements of their previous work, with psych and punky influences, but largely abandons their garage rock sound. The most essential element of Osees maintains is their ever-changing nature and openness to experimentation. Though most of the record is pervaded by frantic, oscillating soundscapes, Intercepted Message actually finds itself in its withdrawal from this – the release provided by the record’s serene final moments is only enhanced by the chaos that comes before.
He may be the mastermind behind Osees, but take Dwyer’s words on the record with a pinch of salt – this may be a record for tired times, but it certainly isn’t what you’d think of when you hear the words “pop record”. Nor is it what you’d expect from the label who put out the likes of garage rock legends Pussy Galore and Jay Reatard. It might not even be what you think of when you hear the name Osees – but isn’t that their whole appeal?
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