Blonde Redhead
23
4AD/Remote Control/Inertia


Over a decade ago, New York trio Blonde Redhead's sound was characterised by a sense of barely constrained chaos. Their stark, art-rock sound was often compared to the likes of Sonic Youth, although such traces of the sound they began with are hard to find on '23', their seventh album. A far cry from the noisiness of their early albums, '23' evolves on their last work, 2004's grand 'Misery Is A Butterfly'.

This time, however, Blonde Redhead pare back the sweeping melancholy of their last album, as is immediately clear on the title track that opens the album. The warm hum of the guitars and bass is gentler than almost anything else the band has recorded, a quality that also applies to Kazu Makino's vocals. As distinctive as it still is, Makino's ghostly voice feels more like a part of the ensemble, blending with the other instruments instead of contrasting to them as she has done so previously. Even when tracks like Publisher and Heroine - whose lyrics give an ailing relationship an almost storybook-like feel - hearken back to the despair of 'Misery Is A Butterfly', they do so more gently, conveying a feeling that is more gently wistful than 'Misery is a Butterfly''s soaring sadness. In fact, the most dramatic tracks on '23' are often in its brightest moments, such as the more distinctly electronic Top Ranking and the sweet lull of Dr. Strangeluv.

Funnily enough, '23''s gentle harmoniousness serves as both its strength and its only weakness. Unlike their previous album, the peaks and valleys in the mood of '23' are less extreme, and while the album does not grate on the ears even once, there are no immediate standouts like 'Misery Is A Butterfly''s Elephant Woman. Still, that's a small complaint for an album that is frequently hypnotic, regardless of the different moods each song evokes. Not only is '23' Blonde Redhead's most nuanced album, its fragile loveliness is the band's most mature work to date.

Brian O'Neill