Nonpareils – Scented Pictures

Mute

This is Aaron Hemphill‘s first solo release since his amicable departure from Liars a few years ago, and I can’t help thinking how fun it would have been if all ex-members were able to trade under the Liars name as if they were an updated version of Faust. This record, although solo, can’t help but be compared to his work with Liars and for me it holds up well to those comparisons.

The ability that band had to serve up what you didn’t know you wanted with a bit of cheeky wit and a sardonic wink is alive and well in Scented Pictures, and leads me to think that the gradual rendering of Liars down to just Angus has led to two good bands messing with our musical senses in place of one.

Unsurprisingly, the intro to this album had me checking the CD machine to make sure the disc wasn’t damaged as glitchy orchestral sounds and random drums skittered and bounced in and out of focus for a minute, just to test your nerve before allowing a proper song to emerge. At least I thought it was a proper song, but again he’s messing with our heads, “The Timeless Now”‘s doomy vocals struggling in the quicksand of a disorientating and lumpen electronic rhythm that veers around like a weekend drunk as repetitive drones and slowed down vocals battle for the background headcharge. So far, so messy and weird, and it doesn’t stop here.

The tripping unsteadiness and the slow, glitchy beat of “Cherry Cola” finds Aaron just awoken, mouth sticky and words difficult to extract. The song just crawls, but there is an itchy irritation to it, like it is covered in oil, sand and skipping insects, and sleepy Aaron just doesn’t have the perspicacity to deal with the sense of unease and would rather just go back to bed. Tempos do lift on “Ditchglass, They Think” and the vocals are hidden behind shields of echo as the fevered beats conceal a rather perky bass-line struggling to make itself known. According to the blurb, Aaron has been working on this for the last three years, provoking his producer to distract him while recording, purposefully miking things up wrong and generally just attempting to subvert his own recording process in the most ridiculous ways imaginable. On close inspection, he has managed just that, as if each time a song sounded successful in a uniform kind of way, he would stick a wheel in the spokes and upend the whole process for something more challenging or simply silly.

A couple of the tracks, particularly “Scented Pictures” itself, find a really pretty little lullaby emerging from juddering electronics and background scurf. Aaron’s vocals and the beat here are gentle and the little electronic raindrops scattered over the top are a lovely touch. I was sitting there imagining Aaron singing this to his young child and how fitting it would be — until thirty seconds of corrosive electric fuzz arrives at the end to totally overwhelm the moment and give any self-respecting kid nightmares for the rest of the year. These paradoxes are strewn across the album. One minute you will have the unlikely but surprisingly successful melding of Lewis and the Radiophonic Workshop on “Press Play”, sketching a delightful tired, romantic early morning vibe;  the next, seriously bored vocals are allied to shuddering martial drums and fairground organ. It is all here, thrown in at random and beaten with a stick as some elements attempt to escape from the unholy stew that is being prepared.

This album is by turns massively disorientating, incredibly pretty, post-punk monotonous beyond belief to irrepressibly manic like a hyperactive child that is covered in nettle rash. You just have to allow it to take you where it leads. Don’t try and second guess it, because even after the third and fourth listens, Scented Pictures was still taking me by surprise. It is essential listening for Liars fans, but it also has something for those people who love itchy, glitchy, angsty and scratchy. Nonpareils means something like “incomparable” in French, and that is a fair name for the band. As to Scented Pictures, be prepared for your olfactory senses to be overwhelmed.

-Mr Olivetti-