Where to begin? This review seems especially daunting to me—something I’ve put off for more than a month now. To offer up a subpar analogy, Masked Dancers for me, is something like Eliot’s Wasteland, brilliant, layered, complex, occasionally arduous but ultimately rewarding. There is a lot here; “a heap of broken images” cohesively weaved into a remarkable full length where each song flows nearly seamlessly into the next.
Musically, the New Hampshire natives can be located somewhere between 90’s emo revival and avant-garde pseudo prog rock. Scott Delbango (writer of The City Spreads Out blog: a fantastic blog unfortunately updated even less than Mass Recovery) wrote, “It’s difficult to describe the band accurately to the uninitiated, but the closest I can come is to call them a fusion of Cap’n Jazz and Yes.” This comparison, though seemingly absurd, makes a lot of sense to me after listening to the record. The Brave Little Abacus harness the frantic energy and off-kilter vocals of Cap’n Jazz and pair it with the curious musical virtuosity of Yes for a sound both urgent and explorative—ultimately far beyond the scope of any young three piece band I’ve heard. Yet, even though the band can draw comparisons to the idolized Kinsella project, and I’m sure that someone in this band owns a copy of Analphabetapolothology, The Brave Little Abacus are not simply rehashing the past and cashing in on proven formulas but actively offering up something new.
Masked Dancers opens with “I see it too”, a 10 minute opus showcasing the enviable musicality and undeniable creativity of the band. “I see it too” begins with metronome clicks followed by the slow strum of bright guitar and Demirjian’s voice: pleading, nasal, informative, yet somehow fitting. The glacial pace of the song is fractured within minutes—the ambient background hum fully disappearing behind straining vocals and frantic distorted guitar taps. In another 3 ½ minutes the spastic pace slows once again to reveal the soft howl of the synthesizer and patient guitars biding time to once again burst into urgent movement. At 8:02 the song reintroduces the electronic inclinations of the band as we are led through the beep-booping (excuse the onomatopoeia) conclusion of the song.
The next track, “but I won’t always be on the receiving end!” is something of an interlude where TBLA play with programming and looped audio of what sounds to me like Japanese (I’ve been told it’s taken from Akira which I sincerely hope is true). The song flows seamlessly to “a map of the stars” my favorite song on Masked Dancers for its emotional depth, vocal power, and lyrics which balance precariously between obscure and brilliant. At 1:32, Demirjian yelps: “I will admit I was fine with the assist yet exploitation multiplied and grew and lastly grew again, only to come through the window in the form of a map of the stars in which you’d use to plan the route he’d take to travel back towards you.”
The album continues on with the quirky tracks “waiting for your return, like running backwards” and “(through hallways)” which meld pop sentiment with TBLA’s experimental tendencies. However, the levity of these songs is quickly extinguished with the somber and contemplative “he never existed in the first place”, another cut containing recycled audio clips and a recurrent scream that loops through the track. At times I’ve been tempted to skip this track after the 20th or so “Yaarrhhhhhahhhahh” as they become a bit tedious, but right as I’m about to press the skip button, the next song “born again so many times you forget you are” blitzkriegs my CD player.
“born again” much like the opening track is right around 10 minutes long but is dynamic enough in its makeup—part angular scream-and-strum exigency part spacey synth driven rock—to keep things interesting. The lyrics in this song are among the albums best. Demirjian’s writing is oddly captivating in lines like, “Leave home like third grade students and their backpacks, running towards some small escape. I’m running towards the exit of a university. Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back, but I have to because it’s all I really want to do: dance and bathe with the same intent as the songs we spoke about.”
The last three songs conclude Masked Dancers perfectly with the off time “(underground)” and the horn injected “remember to wave (when looking down from the clouds)” and “It’s a lot. It’s seamless”.
Masked Dancers is not only the Brave Little Abacus’s most impressive release, it’s also one of the most well constructed records I’ve heard in the past several years and certainly one of 2009’s best (yes I’m aware that it’s now 2010). Like few other bands, TBLA’s disregard for conciseness isn’t a set back and each song, regardless of length, is fully capable of maintaining even the most impatient listener. Each song explodes with vitality, unparalleled creativity, and a seemingly endless reserve of energetic virtuosity.
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