Enter Liars’ self-titled fourth album, in which the group’s love-hate relationship with critical praise continues. This time, the group approaches an odd sub-genre only tested by prodigies such as Yngwie Malmsteen, Yoko Ono and (sometimes) Sonic Youth: the “so-good-it’s-unlistenable” record. Only to be completed by a compositional genius, these albums are densely packed with odd time signatures, seemingly random tunings and technical virtuosity. Yet, simply put, it seems impossible to think of a time to listen to it after an initial drooling over their musical chops.
The slight triumph and major shortcoming of Liars is its inclusion in this category. Unlike so many “high art” releases, this album clearly rests not on pretension alone, but rather is a deliberately crafted statement of the group. There is enough of a stranglehold on rhythm and audio dynamics to impress all but the most impassioned skeptics. Yet the wild yelps and nigh-unbearable dissonance of tracks such as opener “Plaster Casts of Everything” and “Leather Prowler” are sure to draw similar reactions as exhibits at museums of contemporary art: Half of the audience believes they have stumbled upon greatness, while the others are convinced that, armed with the proper stacks and drums, their child could duplicate the work.
Lyrically, that’s close to the truth. Vocalist Angus Andrew begins the album with repetitive singsongs (i.e. “I want to run away / I want to bring you too,” repeated ad nauseam) and never quite progresses in depth or specificity. As with all of their records, Liars use their music to convey a tone which could best be described as aggressive despair — a desolation so full of life that it is easy to become captivated. Yet Liars can be summed up with one simple mantra: easy to appreciate, but hard to truly love.
Bill Earl is back at school in Ithaca, NY, where he’s rockin’ out and writin’ a blog for “The Ithacan” called Sharp Notes. Check it out at http://theithacan.org/blogs/sharpnotes.