5 out of 5

Label: Secretly Canadian

Producer: Mike Mogis

I was quick to pick up this disc when it was released so I could claim my allegiance early whilst the hype machine was beginning to churn.  Racebannon was ear-catching, undeniably, and seemed to help establish Secretly Canadian as something more than just an outlet for Songs:Ohia-ish folksters, though that’s the majority of their output besides this disc and its followup.  Or perhaps ear-catching isn’t the right word so much as… unignorable.  Like the Blood Brothers from ‘Piano Island’ on, RB have that fuck-off screamo quality that surpasses terms like screamo and amplifies it with this blood-curdling, dangerous edge.  With BB, it was perfect production and the tandem vocal attack; with Racebannon, it mostly comes down to how fucking insane singer Mike Anderson sounds.

But, as usual, my prelude is included to a highlight a lack of initial appreciation of sound: I bought the disc as a label collector, listened to it as a label collector, deemed it awesome, then continued collecting.  And I would follow Racebannon, because I was pretty sure I dug their sound, but whether I could pinpoint any given track to a specific release?  …Who knows.  Happily, ‘In the Grips of the Light’ IS awesome.  Anderson’s lyrics easily topple into indulgence – check the included lyric sheet and your eyes will bug out at 1+ pages of rambles per track, but this is also what helps to counter that indulgence and ‘fuck yr…’ slingin’, that the whole presentation is just amplified, taking a note from the impassioned pleas of classic punk, where anti-authority lyrics take on extra importance just ’cause you feel ’em when whoever is screamin’ ’em.  And besides that, for every line that might make one roll their eyes, Anderson blankets it with lines of odd ramblings or inspired insight.  I can’t say I connect with everything he’s saying, but I’m engrossed while he’s singing.

So what I didn’t appreciate at first, and what helps to solidify this as a work of art, are the… non-hardcore moments.  The first and second tracks grab you and rape your ears with thundering beats and the layered and layered bleats of Anderson… but then we take a break at the end of track 2 and all of track three for… noise.  A building storm that leads into the return of intensity with ‘Sober and Sad’, track 4, but this introduces a pattern in the album of massive attacks that lead into guitar skitters and cavernous echoes.  Fittingly, that third track is called ‘Go With the Flow,’ and now I can fully appreciate how that moment (and the similar ones scattered about) helps to make the whole experience an experience and not just an album of some songs, or, oppositely, the more wandering and less impactful disc – like the followup ‘Satan’s Kickin’ Yr Dick In.’

Mogis – ye of a lot of Saddle Creek-y production shit – scores a freaking homerun here, mic-ing the group so that the noise sounds live and immediate, despite all of the layering that’s going on.  At first I didn’t think it had enough punch, but when it’s given punch, such as by Weston on the later ‘Acid or Blood’, it actually subtracts out some of the chaos that makes ‘Grips’ so unique.  I mean, the drums and bass are thundering, but this is a noisy, raw sounding disc.

And lastly, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no Captain Beefheart, but I’m nominating ‘Electricity’ as one of the best covers of all god damned time.  I just listened to the original and it’s wonderful to hear how Beef’s oddity could stretch over the years to morph into Racebannon, and, furthermore, how the group could then absolutely twist the song to meet their needs without, actually, changing the core structure at all.

Devastating stuff.