4 out of 5

Label: Deathbomb Arc (physical edition)

Produced by: ?

I’m fairly positive, by my personal metrics, that I should hate Captain Ahab. I’m not really a comedy band type; I hope that’s not a dismissive term for CA, but a “concept” album primarily around dancin’ and fuckin’, told via plenty of ribald language and music-ed with a mostly over the top BPM approach, qualifies as something with at least some aims towards chuckles. That approach is also mostly not my bag: I can be an electro guy, or an acid guy, but club tracks are often rather grating for me.

These two factors already (should) align me against Captain Ahab. Seating it in a kind of Peaches-esque performative world – the duo that makes up the band used to call it “ravesploitation” – just raises my hackles even more.

And yet…

While this earlier effort does not show as much range or polish as what would come, it’s still a wild ride of genre mashing and confusing sincerity – where a Peaches type (or Mindless Self Indulgence, a rather clearer musical connection for CA’s more aggressive moments) would probably just hit a song’s punchline and repeat it, the tracks on After the Rain My Heart Still Dreams very often go much further and wider with things, either segueing the song into some left turn of industrial or prog, and / or zooming the lyrics from the ridiculous to curiously obsessive, and past that point to some type of believable passion. That’s maybe where the concept comes in: that instead of the songs being about the gag, they’re stories where a gag is part of the story. Mind you, that can still result in a drillcore beat and pleading for a cock in the bum, over and over, but that bum-cock is being begged-for by some imagined person. It’s an interestingly blurry line.

Aurally, while I think songs rely a bit too much on predictable starting points – they are, ultimately, crowd pleasers, so beats drop and choruses hit when expected – the hook that Ahab leans in to is working in these really abrasive aspects that would otherwise be post-punk or hardcore, but are upcycled into dance pop, another fascinating blurring of affects / effects.

It’s just all very convincing, on top of being so earnest with its crassness as to offer that aforementioned sincerity. There’s a very digital tinge to this that can slightly claustrophobic sounding – the sounds can’t breathe – but consider it part of wrestling with the confusing complexities hidden behind yelling about genitals.

Note: the physical and downloadable editions of this have 15 tracks versus Bandcamp’s 8. Just for you crazy kids, I downloaded for the whole experience!