ANJOU - Anjou

"They sometimes come back," as the saying usually goes in these cases, though this time "sometimes someone fools themselves into thinking they'll come back" might fit a lot better. We're talking about Labradford, who certainly need no introduction. Or rather, strictly speaking, we're not talking about them at all. Perhaps merely invoking the name Labradford to talk about Anjou is a mistake from the outset. It is, even though Anjou are Mark Nelson and Robert Donne, in other words two-thirds of Labradford, with Carter Brown's spot filled by Steven Hess, the hidden half of Pan American.

Donne and Nelson return to working together after thirteen years in which each pursued his own solo career outside of a band that never officially broke up, and during which the absent Brown essentially vanished from the artistic radar. They reunite bolstered by two diametrically opposed experiences, one continuing to forge a highly personal strain of ambient music, the other settling in with a standout act of the slowcore scene (Spokane) and lending a hand to young disciples of his own sound (Gregor Samsa).

They return to working together under undisclosed circumstances, doing so with an extra Steven Hess who, brought in as a third wheel in the reunion of the two titans, apparently ends up taking the wheel himself. Indeed, "Anjou" seems to (rightly) want to distance itself from the word Labradford in an almost obsessive way, trapped by the need to prove a new, flourishing identity. One made of drones, black holes, assorted dark ordeals, distortion and noise. Lots of noise. Perhaps too much.

The obsession mentioned above isn't enough to keep the three at a distance from a past too weighty not to resurface, and paradoxically that's a good thing. Because it's in passages like the diseased tribalism of "Readings," the majestic "Inclosed" and the lullaby of "Adjustement" that the record's beating heart is to be found, and the alchemy between Nelson and Donne returns to its old glory. It's no coincidence that these are the moments closest to their historical past, in some ways even self-referential, yet more effective and successful.

Too much noise, as we said: the kind that smothers another possible self-tribute in "Lamptest," that dictates the pace of the dub paralysis of "Sighting," that shows off in a closer as abrasive and theatrical as it is static, "Fieldwork," and that grips a "Specimen Question" that could pass for a shoddy copy of a castoff from Fennesz's "Venice." The exception represented by "Backsight," almost an outtake of the most organic Pan American, serves as the watershed of an album that only half succeeds. But from two class acts like these, it's decidedly fair to expect more.

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

09/10/2014