These New Puritans – ‘Crooked Wing’ album review: Unsettling beauty from the Barnett brothers
THE SKINNY: When These New Puritans emerged in 2008 with Beat Pyramid, many listeners weren’t quite sure what to make of them. If a dance-punk act that sounded like The Fall was too confounding to wrap your head around, then it probably wasn’t going to be for you. Five albums into their career, it’s still virtually impossible to pigeonhole the Southend band’s sound, although long gone are the days when they sounded like Mark E Smith at an industrial rave.
2010’s Hidden was a nightmarish record that fused glitchy electronics with a chamber orchestra, and if that wasn’t enough of a reinvention, then 2013’s Field of Reeds saw the group venture into Talk Talk-esque post-rock and neo-classical territory. Their last record, Inside the Rose, may have been the most direct record of their career, but it was still the sound of a band determined to defy expectations and continually evolve their sound.
With Crooked Wing, things appear to be a mixture of all of the above, but that doesn’t mean that twin brothers Jack and George Barnett aren’t still trying to push the boat out. There are times when drum beats sound like they’ve been pinched from a deconstructed club track and warped to high heaven, and there are times when they’re swapped out entirely for glistening tuned percussion. There are voices that lean on both extremes in terms of pitch, with some pure choral vocals battling it out with grisly murmurations. It’s far from being a comforting listen, but TNP have never wished to make their music easy.
The occasional filmic quality to their work is what makes it essential to listen to this record as one piece; you can listen to these songs individually, but it won’t carry the same emotional weight or impact. How the Barnett brothers haven’t been approached to soundtrack a dystopian sci-fi or horror flick in the past is frankly staggering, and the fact that they’re able to establish a mood and let it mutate in several different ways suggests they’d be more than qualified to do it.
What Crooked Wing is is a victory lap for all of their previous exploration; an opportunity to combine all of the skills and talents they’ve accrued over the years and blend it into one disorienting listen that eschews straightforward categorisation. For a band that began as two kids fascinated by experimenting with sound, they’ve transformed themselves into two of the most adept composers of the modern era, and this may well be one of their greatest achievements to date.
For fans of: Neoclassical drill, hyper-chamber pop, and hardcore musique concrète, invent a genre, and they’ll have a crack at it.
A concluding comment from a genre purist: “Fuck, I’ve had six years to try and define their last album and they’ve only gone and changed again. I give up.”
Crooked Wing track by track:
Release Date: May 23rd | Producer: Graham Sutton & Jack Barnett | Label: Domino
‘Waiting’: The album opens with a chilling solo piece from a young boy singing in a soprano register, complete with booming atmospheric organs and synths. It’s this incorporation of classical elements that These New Puritans have so deftly provided over the years that has always set them apart from their contemporaries, and despite having opened previous albums in a similar fashion, it doesn’t feel like the impact is wearing thin. [4/5]
‘Bells’: The chiming of bells towards the end of the opener leads us into an even more bell-heavy track, which has a disorienting descending piano line. Jack Barnett’s vocals then come in after a while, and have never sounded so pure, as the bells speed up and start playing in different time signatures in a way reminiscent of Philip Glass’s works. The later introduction of reed instruments also goes to show that Barnett has not lost his flair for gorgeous arrangements. [4/5]
‘A Season In Hell’: This is the closest we’ve come to hearing TNP reproduce the industrial sounds of Hidden since its release, although it feels like the duo have learned how to make this aspect of their output even more haunting. The introduction of a manic organ line and the bombastic drumming make it sound like a final boss theme, and we’re only three songs in. Things are only going to get intense from here, and that’s only exaggerated by the wailed vocals at the end. [4.5/5]
‘Industrial Love Song’: Featuring the crystalline vocals of Caroline Polachek, this funereal and lamentful ballad is one of the highlights of the record, and demonstrates that despite their avant-garde tendencies, they’ve got an ear for selecting one of the most inspired features heard on a record this year. The way she and Barnett complement each other with their opposing tones is sumptuous, and once again, the subtly brilliant instrumental flourishes add a glistening final touch to an already magnificent track. [5/5]
‘I’m Already Here’: The midway point of the album begins as the most plaintive and peaceful song on the record, and the sparse arrangements give us time to reflect on the dystopian feel that we’ve been subjected to so far. With overlapping female voices and a French horn solo towards the end, it’s a nice bit of pensive respite to help the listener prepare for the second half. [3.5/5]
‘Wild Fields (I Don’t Want To)’: Goodness me, this churning organ sounds evil. We’re back into industrial territory, but there’s a gothic flavour that appears to be running through this song as well, and as with ‘A Season In Hell’, the processed drum beat and vocal pattern suggest a slight influence of hip-hop. It wouldn’t surprise me if the twins had been listening to all of the above, but equally, it wouldn’t surprise me if they had a completely different thing in mind. [4.5/5]
‘The Old World’: Yes, this album feels gloomy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t squeeze in moments of beauty. There are some melodic runs on this song that are frankly to die for, and are up there with the most arresting moments that TNP have ever produced. It doesn’t quite expand into pure ecstatic territory, but it’s close enough. [4.5/5]
‘Crooked Wing’: The pounding drums are ominous, which is what ought to be expected from the track that was designed to be the piece that thematically ties up this beast of a record. All of the hallmarks of the rest of the album are here, from church organs, twinkling bells, Jack Barnett’s strained vocals and the throbbing hum of a double bass. Another divine track that eventually comes together to an emphatic climax. [4.5/5]
‘Goodnight’: Once again, the group prove that you don’t even need to be doing much to be interesting, but it’s what you choose to do with the spaces you’re filling that makes the music interesting. There’s not as much to latch onto with ‘Goodnight’ in the opening stages, but then the introduction of two alien voices – one pure and one demonic – makes for a surreal moment in an otherwise medium-paced track. [3.5/5]
‘Return’: Essentially a continuation of the opening track, bringing us full circle on an album that you’ll want to listen to repeatedly to fully appreciate all of its intricacies, just perhaps not straight away. [4/5]
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