NEED NEW BODY - Where’s Black Ben

If we were to rank recent bands according to the ratio between quality of output and audience following, Need New Body — a shape-shifting entity with an unstable line-up hailing from the Philadelphia area (pardon, Psychedelphia!) — would undoubtedly take a prominent place.

Formed in 2000 as an evolution of Bent Leg Fatima (already a legendary promise of the US out-rock scene), after various new members joined, followed by relatively brief departures, and with the permanent addition of Blue Hawai, a third of Chicago's Bablicon and studio engineer on all of the ensemble's work, they now present themselves as a five-piece: Chris Powell, an energetic, thunderous drummer and occasional vocalist; Dale Jimenez, a possessed singer and multi-instrumentalist, mainly on keyboards and horns on this album; Jamey Robinson, main keyboardist and vocalist; Jeff Bradbury, singer, bassist, guitarist-without-a-guitar by choice, and therefore banjo player; and finally the notorious Blue Hawai, born Griffin Rodriguez, providing with his forceful bass the glue that, together with Chris's drumming, forms the sturdy backbone around which the band's "studio improvisations" are built.

Their self-titled debut is the incubation of their sound. Twenty-two possessed tracks with blatant krautrock echoes laying out the state of the art of the new band, followed by twenty-three more on their second release.

"UFO", as the album is called, lives up to the promise contained in its title: the record is entirely pervaded by a strong playful spirit and is an alien jumble of horns and keyboards run wild, carefully measured noise, electronic marches and yet more krautrock in abundance.

It might seem unlikely, after a release of this calibre, that the new album could sound just as fresh, just as effective in fusing such varied influences, and just as engaging.

Because yes, this "Where's Black Ben", their first outing on 5RC, manages to surpass the already great "UFO", taking a further step in defining the musical personality of the American outfit.

A staggering leap forward that dazzles right from the cover and booklet, an explosion of comic-book colours and photo collages.

Let's hit play.

The intro is thunderous: "Brite Tha' Day" launches in fifth gear, maybe even sixth (!), with a bassline that cuts the listener in two (built on the shape of "Another One Bites The Dust", as several reviewers have rightly pointed out), with the drums backing it up with heavy hip-hop cadences (a genre officially added with this album to the quintet's already sufficiently long list of skills).

Right after, a splendid vocal part kicks in that seems forcibly lifted from the cabaret-era Zappa of "Absolutely Free". The heated rhyme-trading duel continues for the whole length of the track, propped up by the relentless rhythm and framed by fawning backing vocals.

"Magic Kingdom" bursts to life all at once, after distant percussion, with the entrance of Jamey's plastic, crystal-clear keyboard sound repeating a simple yet obsessive exotic pattern. It's the keyboardist himself who lends his voice to this track, coming in with a mournful dirge that, with all the goodwill in the world, cannot help but bring to mind such demanding names as Residents and Caroliner (despite the band members' denials during the interview). Also on this track, a sax played by The Diminisher (David McDonnell) of Bablicon makes an appearance.

The fast, danceable rhythms of "Totally Pos Paas" — like a Strokes track remixed at double speed by !!! — lead us into the gorgeous, exhilarating and practically perfect "Poppa B". Here it's the keyboard and banjo that lay down the sonic backdrop over which, quite serenely, the ending of a love story is sung. An ending from which a positive note nonetheless emerges, one they seem keen to make clear: the protagonist still has his beloved dancing shoes. An irresistibly catchy chorus, almost impossible to forget.

Erratic bursts of electronics coming from who knows where, synthetic distortions and anxious rapping make listening to "Mouthbreaker" borderline claustrophobic, which then evolves directly into the slightly more precise and normalized (as much as Need New Body's can ever be) space-rock pulses of the following "Who's This Dude", complete with a stunning electronic coda that implodes on itself in a riot of bass and reverb.

"Tuthmosis" is a short instrumental, once again in a Residents-like vein, not far from the unforgettable "Rest Aria".

Next comes "Outerspace", a tribute to cosmic Sun Ra and one of the highest points of this "Where's Black Ben": more choirs, furious sax, electronic splatters and Jamey's deranged vocals, all advancing calmly before exploding in the track's final section into a horn-fuelled orgy.

Apparent chaos, the same chaos from which the following "Inner Gift" is born and in which it lives, in turn spawning the unstable "Badoosh+Seagull War="Die"": krautrock drumming, dissonant electronics and deranged screams.

These three tracks, from "Outerspace" onward, together form one enormous post-jazz suite smeared with electronics, an imposing and magnetic monolith drawing together the most disparate influences, from Ornette Coleman to Can, Sun Ra, Boredoms and John Cage.

This second side of the record (which, incidentally, also exists in a vinyl pressing) is certainly less immediate and accessible on a first listen, but on closer exploration it's fully capable of matching, and at times surpassing in raw emotional impact, the tracks that open the album.

It's just the banjo that introduces the world- and folk-flavoured refrain of "Peruvidia", a wildly rhythmic, contemplative little march.

With "So St Rx", another delightfully antic rhythmic saraband (the title is short for "South Street Rockers"), we return to funk and hip-hop territory: Need New Body play the part of bullies amid city traffic. They're accompanied by toy horns, once again The Diminisher's sax, cheerleader-style female choruses and lyrics full of braggadocio like "Oh! Maybe I need some incidents!".

"Abstract Dancers/Pearl Crusher" opens the record's second great deconstructionist suite, once again heavily electronic; when, during this track, the recording is deliberately made to skip for about fifteen seconds, we're suddenly thrust somewhere not far from Disc.

"Pax-N-Half", steeped in loops, is its natural follow-up.

Electronic keyboards also dominate the episodes of "Juvie Girlz/Ghost Of Bistro/Hairfunny", a collage of musical phrases repeated and reshuffled with ever greater skill, right up to the apotheosis of "Eskimo": jazz dissolved into latter-day punk-funk, with liquid keyboards and pumping basslines; a long, devastating, breathtaking finale for a crazed, exhilarating album, perfect for a postmodern party, one that never fears the tedium of repeated listening.

While we wait for the year's final fireworks, this is simply the album of the year.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

06/04/2013