These New Puritans - Light and sensuality in a post-industrial world

Let's be honest: in 2007 few would have bet much on a band like These New Puritans, who seemed at first glance just another English group among the many that earned a week or two of coverage in the NME before vanishing into thin air. Yet the famously reclusive London band led by twin brothers Jack and George Barnett managed to evolve and transform within the space of a mere five years, putting an obsessive, almost demonic compositional quest ahead of the pop mythology-building pursued by so many contemporaries whose names are now barely remembered, accelerating a complex process of self-definition (yet, in hindsight, a logical one, almost premeditated when viewed retrospectively) that gradually unveiled sonic creations of austere beauty and mystery, to the supreme delight of those who followed that process faithfully from the very start.

After an early start still marked by the last glimmers of the neo-wave revival that was dominant everywhere at the time, the band has quietly cultivated an unpredictable kind of diversity, doling out collaborations that could not be further apart from one another: lending their refined (and at the same time sharp, venomous) musical design to a conceptual, formalist fashion designer like Hedi Slimane, or duetting with the Britten Sinfonia, in a permanent short-circuit of experimentation and (meta) pop entertainment.

The band has continued to reinvent itself radically with every new release, folding new elements and stylistic suggestions into a conceptual spectrum that has grown ever more expansive over time. To their Factory-school art-rock they have thus added sophisticated, intellectually charged declensions of the post- prefix, moving gradually from math-rock all the way to the most ineffable minimalism, passing through hip-hop, ambient, folklore, jazz and the avant-garde. Following a wholly singular trajectory (all the more remarkable given the young age of its protagonists), These New Puritans have appropriated, and reshaped in their own way, the noblest strand of British art music. The band, from the London area, is made up of Jack Barnett (vocals, multi-instrumentalist, producer and principal composer), George Barnett (drums, loops) and Thomas Hein (bass, keyboards, sampler, drums), plus Sophie Sleigh-Johnson (keyboards, samples), who left the group in 2012.

Their official debut came in October 2006 with the release of the EP Now Pluvial, a seven-inch pressed in a run of five hundred numbered copies, containing the first three tracks the band had put out: "Elvis", "C16th" and "En Papier", which would later resurface on their debut album, Beat Pyramid, released in January 2008, marking the move from the small Angular label (always keen to nurture young talent) to the prestigious and exclusive Domino, and establishing itself immediately as a musically innovative and disorienting proposition. Any analysis of the album's content must start from the circularity built into the titles of the first ("...Ce I Will Say This Twice") and last tracks ("I Will Say This Twi..."), as if to suggest the highly evocative idea of a potentially endless sonic flow, an idea reinforced by the snake biting its own tail (there are numerous esoteric-mythological references) visible on the inner artwork of the CD. These preliminary observations alone are enough to sketch out, with reasonable precision, the essential traits of the record: a rough, angular math-rock, built on strongly repetitive structures, driven by guitar mechanisms that follow one another almost mechanically, underpinned by a wide range of synthetic sounds set in loops, over which a shouting, obsessive voice is layered, with cadences vaguely reminiscent of hip-hop (Madlib and Wu Tang Clan are cited as decisive influences).

A decisive contribution, both compositionally and conceptually, comes from an album like "Mirrored" by Battles; what marks a clear difference, however, is a stronger grounding in the traditionally understood song structure (the tracks are always kept fairly short), a far more austere and sparing instrumental dress, and a strong continuity with the more evolved and openly avant-garde strands of English new wave, especially when it comes to rhythmic research and experimentation, which plays a central role here (in this specific case, think above all of Wire, Fall, Gang Of Four, PiL, Pop Group and A Certain Ratio). What stands out above all are the peremptory post-punk slashes in tracks like "Colours" (the rhythmic progression is truly relentless) or "Numerology", whose very title underscores the rigorously mathematical nature of the band's compositional approach. That approach oscillates between an exasperated, subtly self-satisfied form of numerological esotericism (one song is titled "£4", another "4", another still "C.16th +-", and the tracklist itself consists of 16 tracks, just like the letters that make up the name These New Puritans, not to mention the alchemical symbolism implicit in the pyramid referenced in the title) and a rigorously algebraic, calculated construction of sonic geometries, as imperturbable and austere as enigmatic talismans or obscure monoliths from some neo-Pythagorean ritual (after all, Pythagoras was among the first to intuit the original connection between music, numbers and cosmology). The insistent, programmatic repetitiveness of certain motifs is the record's greatest limitation, as over its full length it ends up feeling excessively homogeneous, but it must be acknowledged that, on first listen especially, the most kinetic and deliberately redundant tracks pour over the listener a sudden, pleasantly hypnotic and disorienting sense of estrangement.

Beat Pyramid thus establishes itself as an extremely tense debut, original in certain flashes of insight. At times you almost get the feeling that, had Joy Division carried on with their own exploration, they would very likely have arrived at music not too dissimilar from this.

Two years later comes a new and extremely ambitious work, Hidden, made with the significant production help of Graham Sutton, master of abstract volumes and ethereal sonic wandering, from the never-sufficiently-praised Bark Psychosis. Behind its insipid cover unfolds the malleable, elusive sense of a stylistic quest that never stops exploring its own complexity to the point of the most hallucinated vertigo, poised between mathematical delirium and neo-pagan orphism. What emerges is a kind of maniacally conceptual, almost demagnetized meta-post-hip-hop (though post-hip-punk would be more accurate), built with compass-like precision on grooves that crumble into a surprisingly symphonic haze (listen to the almost Mussorgsky-like brass insertions of "We Want War" or the vaguely chamber-music Weimar cabaret of "Hologram") and at times progressive, balancing between the ossified post-industrial tribalism of Pil or 23 Skidoo ("Attack Music"), the algorithms of D.A.F. ("Fire Power") and the metaphysical rap of a Prefuse 73.

Martyring their serial compositions in rigid, obscurely numerological hair shirts, These New Puritans end up cutting a kind of minimalist magic square, a machine that multiplies deranged sonic combinations, an exponential elevator of sonic monads, Leibnizian-ly com-possible in infinite sequences, based on the ritual repetition of an undifferentiated sorcerous formula that almost ends up exploding silently into a Davis-like hypnosis (listen to the very brief "Canticle") veiled by glimmers of medieval-ish dramaturgy ("Orion"). Perhaps, for now, the actual result is less destabilizing and enjoyable than the theoretical program that inspires it (translating into music that is perhaps more thought-out than played), and yet among these non-songs that bounce off icy geometric surfaces, multiplying tenfold into a tangle of minimal reflections and refractions ranging from madrigal to postmodern aria, there emerges the powerful, sinister image of a band that knows exactly where it wants to go and relishes the supreme pleasure of never revealing it.

In June 2013 comes the much-awaited third album by These New Puritans. Three and a half years have passed since Hidden launched them into orbit, sparking huge curiosity among audiences and the specialist press alike. New surprises loom on the horizon: the English band, now reduced to a trio following the departure of Sophie Sleigh-Johnson, is finally ready to offer concrete and (perhaps) definitive answers about its artistic direction.

Field Of Reeds (chosen by OndaRock as Album of the Month for June) comes across as a sequence of landscapes painted on canvas, ambitious in its orchestral scope and almost devoid of rhythm, with drums appearing only rarely and vitality entrusted instead to the counterpoint of strings and brass. A project deeply indebted to those same lieder (compositions in the German tradition for piano and voice) that also heavily influenced the latest Baustelle, to cite a wholly Italian example.

Jack Barnett confirms he has great talent, and despite the inevitable moments of tedium typical of a work defined by slowness and austerity, he manages to hit the mark with imposing instrumental movements, especially the long coda of "V (Island Song)", the album's undisputed masterpiece. At first glance it might look like commercial suicide, but no matter: it's clear that Field Of Reeds never intended to sell millions of copies, but rather to dispense intimate emotions to those who manage to get past the initial narrow approach. And it will be a pleasure to lose yourself in the ecstatic circularity of "Organ Eternal", the Gregorian chants of "Spiral", the slightly more lush arrangements of "Fragment Two", or the ambient-jazzy drift of "Nothing Else", on an album that feels at once ancient and contemporary.

EXPANDED (Live At The Barbican) documents a unique, perhaps unrepeatable TNP show in the English capital, on 12 April 2014, with the help of 35 members of the Heritage Orchestra and the Synergy Vocals choir. Indeed, faithfully reproducing live an album that already boasted a dizzying line-up required a stage like that of the Barbican Centre, among the most prestigious in all of Europe. The ultimate purpose of this event clearly turned out to be amplifying the arrangement peculiarities underpinning the entire structure of the work.

And it's no surprise that, in hindsight, the frontman declared himself rather satisfied with the result. Although the variations on the original text are minimal, the grandiloquent performance wraps the nine tracks in a dazzling light that in certain passages almost dilutes their dramatic charge ("Spiral"), while in others reaches almost unbearable heights of lyricism ("The Light In Your Name"). Not even the applause between tracks manages to dent this tremendous intensity, much of the credit for which goes to the substantial horn section, whose fanfares take on a position of absolute prominence in most of the movements, within which the electronic finishing touches of the LP nonetheless find their rightful place. Helped by the fact that every single instrumental part was written down, the work manages to retain, in a live setting, an impact worthy of the great classical compositions of the past.

While the question of the supposed "usefulness" or otherwise of such projects is usually raised in these cases, with EXPANDED specifically there's no doubt at all: the power with which it reaffirms the value of the puritan body of work makes it essential listening both for those already in the know and for skeptics, who will find in it something more than a skippable "carbon copy".

After such a sprawling, ambitious project as Field Of Reeds, the most logical route, though not an easy one, was a carefully weighed stylistic compromise between the gripping war manifesto of Hidden and the deep introspection of the masterpiece that followed it. An undertaking that fully justifies the nearly six years of forced separation, a time span of a malevolent, sibylline brooding that gave the fourth album, Inside The Rose, an unprecedented palette of colors, dominated above all by red.

Amid copious Lynchian velvets, twisting naked bodies and distorting watery reflections, the Barnett brothers seem to invite us through the looking glass, appealing to the senses but filtered through an unconscious, tormented dreamlike activity, projecting the rhythmic and percussive rigor of their previous work onto a scenario as sinister as it is morbidly sensual. The romantic, decadent aura of the lyrics, in George's hands for the first time, finds perfect correspondence in Jack's solemn neoclassical arrangements, which, without incurring any heavy debts, draw notably on the darkwave of Coil and Dead Can Dance.

The Essex outfit once again demonstrates a clarity of intent and a stylistic consistency that are as rare as they are enviable, channeled into a creative practice that allows no stasis or repetition, but rather continuous progress and refinement. Inside The Rose is another spellbinding ceremony in which These New Puritans are simultaneously officiants and sacrificial victim, oracles of a dark mystery that, unable to resolve itself, becomes living, burning Art.

To round off the Inside The Rose project, early 2020 saw the release of The Cut (2016-2019), a collection of tracks left unfinished during that album's sessions, together with remixes, reworkings, alternate takes, assorted interludes, sketches left in embryonic form, and even ideas recorded as voice memos on a smartphone. The children's choirs on the opening "The Mirage", written by Jack Barnett when he was just sixteen, and the orchestral maneuvers of the revised "Infinity Vibraphones", renamed with the added suffix "Orchestral Mirror", are the doors through which to enter this new room of infinite mirrors. In all, nineteen tracks spanning over an hour of music, featuring guests Ossian Brown of Coil, Andrew Liles of Current 93, and Taiwanese singer Scintii.

Within "The Cut" emerge both the gentler, darker side of These New Puritans (see the placid "If I Were You"), revealed without ever abandoning that tension that vibrates constantly beneath the skin, and the electro revelries that break up the duo's neoclassical solemnity, lending the record, for once, a more "popular" edge. This happens especially around the boombastic remixes of "Where The Trees Are On Fire" and "Inside The Rose", placed in sequence in the second half of the record, probably with the intent of creating a clubbing section.

Romantic and decadent, arcane and dreamlike, TNP thus break their own enigmatic consistency by becoming (partly) more extroverted, mixing baroque folk, modern classical and chamber-pop with strong doses of electronics and balearic lounge scenery (the Scintii remix of "Beyond Black Suins"). The seductive piano interludes ("Infinity Vibraphones Postlude") and the included studio run-throughs ("New Fire") are meant to leave a trace of the duo's compositional process, while the ambient takes of the two "Intro Tape" pieces, placed at the end of the tracklist, ideally close out an era in the band's discography. The Inside The Rose project, an album warmly received by both audiences and critics, can now be said to be even more complete and fully realized.

As if by magic, and with a new record deal in hand, the band returns in 2025 with a new album. Crooked Wing is like a wildflower that has finally found room to grow in a musical landscape too garish to feel authentic: the colours of the new These New Puritans album are instead muted, soft, yet very much alive — ten compositions that feel like a caress that hits like a slap. The Barnett twins boldly and stubbornly push into new territory, into a transcendental dimension where sacred and profane cancel each other out.

The organ running through the evocative, angelic-choir textures of "Waiting" and "Return" isn't just a sonic device, but a tribute to the Barnett twins' grandfather (an organist at the church of their hometown), a narrative flow into which the tolling bells of "Bells" slot in, the track that opens the darkest, most sepulchral record the band has made.

And then there are the songs: the industrial beats wrapped in a flourish of organs on "A Season In Hell", the ethereal yet tangible notes of "I'm Already Here", and the claustrophobic beauty of "Wild Fields". And then there's the disorienting single "Industrial Love Song", a song destined to act as a crossover between old and new audiences, a love story between two mechanical entities, two cranes, steeped in genuine gothic romanticism, as well as an intense duet with Caroline Polachek that stakes its claim as the "Don't Give Up" of the new millennium.

Crooked Wing" is also the album that marks the return behind the production desk of Graham Sutton after Field Of Reeds. A regal, baroque, esoteric, original, deeply personal project, perhaps not the most immediate or accessible, but for These New Puritans this is a genuine artistic triumph.

Contributions by Michele Palozzo ("EXPANDED", "Inside The Rose"), Gianfranco Marmoro ("Crooked Wing")

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