Art Brut – Art Brut Vs Satan – Citizen Dick Album Review
Maybe Bossanova wasn’t the best Pixies album to start off my understanding of the band, but some things are impossible to go backwards on. I remember getting that album in early 1991 and its futuristic lyrics and dreamy undertones were like candy for me. Black Francis is the man, and no matter what particular Pixies album is discussed, sound always dominates the discussion. I just purchased a home in the middle of an urban Cleveland renaissance of sorts, where old structures are being rehabbed for deep-pocketed yuppies tired of suburban tedium. Peppering my Tremont neighborhood are plenty of old-school southside Cleveland bars that were in existence long before the wealthy moved in and will, most likely, shell out whiskey long after the condos and art galleries crumble. This is completely significant. I realize I should have probably started with Surfer Rosa or Doolittle, but I didn’t. I moved in late. Pixies didn’t need me the same way the ratty dive bars in my neighborhood don’t need all of the high falutin’ yuppies and their panache for Pat Benatar on the jukebox. Similarly, Art Brut really didn’t need Black Francis to produce their new album, Art Brut Vs Satan, but as with all of this, it’s okay to start in on a great thing a little late. In fact, it may be entirely effective. I can go back and listen to “Debaser” and totally “get it” basing it off my haphazard introduction. I can also do this from a dive bar I wouldn’t have stepped foot in twenty years ago for fear of being shot or robbed. Art Brut’s choice to have an iconic artist and producer on board exemplifies the impeccably savvy choices the band has made in their three album run but also that they don’t really need a new label or tag to quantify their earlier work. What we’re left with, I suppose, is me sipping bourbon in my favorite corner joint absolutely rocking out to this new record. Art Brut kicks Satan’s ass in this one by melting oddly smart pub punk sound with witty and and unapolgetic lyrical smackdowns.
The first major nod to the record involves its overall sonic construction. Francis is more of a singular producer and most of these tracks were rattled off in one or two takes, sealing in the live and grainy edges of punk rock in its truest form. In an era where multi-layered track production is the norm, Eddie Argos and Francis attack this idea both in the album’s sound and also in its lyrical tilt. “Alcoholics Unanimous” begins with Argos’ familiarly gregarious and accent heavy dialogue over top of some soaring guitar fills and stomping rhythm. Tracks like this wouldn’t have worked if recorded in sections. The lyrical delivery is crisp and when Argos shouts “BRING ME TEA! BRING ME COFFEE!” it’s abundantly clear that he’s got an axe to grind, namely an epic confrontation with Satan (i.e. the record buying public). In “What a Rush,” the repetitive line “You like The Beatles, I like the Stones, but these are just records that our parents own” is belted out with alarming irony. Argos really can’t mean that can he? This lyrical attack on overproduction, hype, and mainstream accessibility is pretty brutal in these tracks; it’s the raw sound created by Francis’ recording process and the unaplogetic lyricism that are impossible to overvalue here.
There’s an important chunk of this record underscored by Argos’ vocals, and that’s the crew behind the sly-tounged singer. Bass riffs, shouted background vocals, freakouts, and pummeling blues riffs are all over this thing. “The Passenger,” in an unclear homage to Iggy, involves pounding drums and a super sludgy intro worth the price of admission. Likewise, “Am I Normal” pairs tense lyrics with brilliantly placed ohhhs and ahhs; slinky Byrds-esque guitar riffs and crashing cymbals make this one a delight, as well. Ignoring the amazing talent of all the folks on this record would be a major disservice; Argos’ lyrics paint vivid pictures, but mean little without the barrage of talented instruments wailing underneath it. Folks familiar with Art Brut’s previous two releases will be glad to know nothing has dropped sound-wise. You knew they were good before, and that hasn’t changed; actually, the recording process may have leapfrogged this into another level. It’s well worth a clear listen just for the musicianship alone.
The battle with Satan (i.e. the record buying public) becomes more narratively acute in the sixth track, “Demon’s Out” where the band’s lyrical emphasis takes a more metaphorical route. “I wanted rock n’ roll, I got a science museum” probably sums up my entire mantra as an indie critic. Rock works best when roots are laid bare, and Argos blatantly belts out these pop-bashing lines like he could give two shits. It’s brilliant and riveting. “The record buying public, we hate them, this is Art Brut Vs Satan” is the line that repeatedly pounds home the general premise; the crushing assault on mainstream fandom is crystal clear and by the end of the track when Argos says, “4 marks on my scoreboard,” although we’re not really clear whether he’s broken even with a par or has smacked the music consumer with four left hooks. I tend to side with the latter, as the screw you, hypemonsters mentality is endearing and well-founded.
The album peaks with “Mysterious Bruises,” a 7-plus minute foggy dialogue about how Argos sustained a bunch of bruises the night before. The pop bashing continues with lines like, “I woke up this morning covered in bruises. I only danced to songs I like. So I was sat down most of the night,” but focuses mostly around exactly where the drug and alcohol-induced bruises could have come from. Dude had a rough night. Slamming riffs and shifts occur throughout, and while it’s still a little ambiguous at the end how taking a couple Zyrtec and Advils could possibly make a man feel invincible, the sound and overall vibe of the album hits its peak. It could be argued that this track relies on all of the songs that precede it. Argos has been battered by the record buying public, but is completely numb to all of it because he’s taking his drug of choice, unapologetic and roots-exposed rock n’ roll. Everything all comes together here. Art Brut may have defeated Satan, but everyone still needs a little evil in their lives, particularly musicians.
In the track “Twist and Shout,” the band seems to be taking aim at the mainstream pop success of The Beatles’ classic song. “I didn’t mean to twist and shout. Something slipped and just popped out.” This is hilarious imagery but quietly intelligent, as well. The Beatles never actually intended that song to be their opus, did they? Wasn’t it all about selling records to bubble gum chewing teenagers in America? Their true work came after mainstream success. Likewise, in “The Replacements,” Argos pines that he’s amazed he could have just heard of The Replacements despite them being near the age of his parents. I surely hope this is sarcasm, because he’d probably berate me for not catching onto The Pixies early enough. What’s significant about this album is its witty and sharp lyricism and amazingly fuzzy and retro bar punk feel. Art Brut grapples and calls out some lofty standards here and without apology. When this hits on May 12 (April 20th UK), be sure to pick this up. We’ve posted this review well in advance with the hope of adding to the hype that will come; this is true irony.
Enjoy a couple of Art Brut staples, as well as the video for “Alcoholics Unanimous” above (from the new album).
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