Known for igniting 1980s New York with their creeping No Wave, Bush Tetras have created another genre-bending album in They Live in My Head, the band's first since 2012. This time around, however, their approach isn't as revolutionary as it once felt.
The band opens They Live in My Head with bass-driven single "Bird on a Wire." A strong contender for the best track on the album, the song is haunting and tells a story with negative space, letting each note stand on its own to highlight the story told by vocalist Cynthia Sley. Sley sings about feelings of displacement, watching the world from her perch up on the wire. She briefly considers the option of having someone join her in the solitude, but pushes that thought away, preferring to observe alone.
The album then jumps into the suddenly upbeat "Tout Est Meilleur," the only French song on the tracklist. The following three songs, "Things I Put Together," "2020 Vision," and "I Am Not a Member" have a similar, not easily distinguishable sound.
At the midpoint of They Live in My Head, Bush Tetras gives us "Walking Out the Door," an eco-justice-inspired song about potential. Starting using the same post-punk/new-wave blend from their previous songs, the almost six-minute track builds through impressive soundscapes from guitarist Pat Place. The song really embodies the void-like pain of watching something inevitable happen and hints at coming destruction once the event comes to pass.
The following song, "So Strange," returns to the same sound as before, then pivots to something more tender for "Ghosts of People" — a rumination on the disappearance of time and people from your life. The record's title track is by far its most chimeric, changing sound and style rapidly as the song progresses, though never illogically.
After "Another Room" — another song that seems to fit the band's pre-established mould — They Live in My Head ends with the distorted fever of "The End." Although full of beautiful vocal harmonies and some of the best vocal performance on the album, the obvious naming of this last song really encompasses the sense of malaise that defines the album; in a word, uninspired.
Bush Tetras have a decades-long career and repertoire, one powered by the blending of genres, refusing to allow themselves to be pigeonholed. Throughout They Live in My Head, the band displays a range of diverse sounds, but they also allow half the album to ride comfortably on the formulaic sound. The standouts of the album are the ones that break from this mold, like "The End" and "Walking Out the Door."
At one point in time, Bush Tetras' sound felt prickly and new, but that time has passed; the music on They Live in My Head lacks the scrappy innovation some might've yearned for. While far from irredeemable, They Live in My Head struggles to inspire. While the album is full of calls to arms and fiery language, the band played it safe in terms of the music itself — They Live in My Head won't spark revolution anytime soon.
(Wharf Cat Records)The band opens They Live in My Head with bass-driven single "Bird on a Wire." A strong contender for the best track on the album, the song is haunting and tells a story with negative space, letting each note stand on its own to highlight the story told by vocalist Cynthia Sley. Sley sings about feelings of displacement, watching the world from her perch up on the wire. She briefly considers the option of having someone join her in the solitude, but pushes that thought away, preferring to observe alone.
The album then jumps into the suddenly upbeat "Tout Est Meilleur," the only French song on the tracklist. The following three songs, "Things I Put Together," "2020 Vision," and "I Am Not a Member" have a similar, not easily distinguishable sound.
At the midpoint of They Live in My Head, Bush Tetras gives us "Walking Out the Door," an eco-justice-inspired song about potential. Starting using the same post-punk/new-wave blend from their previous songs, the almost six-minute track builds through impressive soundscapes from guitarist Pat Place. The song really embodies the void-like pain of watching something inevitable happen and hints at coming destruction once the event comes to pass.
The following song, "So Strange," returns to the same sound as before, then pivots to something more tender for "Ghosts of People" — a rumination on the disappearance of time and people from your life. The record's title track is by far its most chimeric, changing sound and style rapidly as the song progresses, though never illogically.
After "Another Room" — another song that seems to fit the band's pre-established mould — They Live in My Head ends with the distorted fever of "The End." Although full of beautiful vocal harmonies and some of the best vocal performance on the album, the obvious naming of this last song really encompasses the sense of malaise that defines the album; in a word, uninspired.
Bush Tetras have a decades-long career and repertoire, one powered by the blending of genres, refusing to allow themselves to be pigeonholed. Throughout They Live in My Head, the band displays a range of diverse sounds, but they also allow half the album to ride comfortably on the formulaic sound. The standouts of the album are the ones that break from this mold, like "The End" and "Walking Out the Door."
At one point in time, Bush Tetras' sound felt prickly and new, but that time has passed; the music on They Live in My Head lacks the scrappy innovation some might've yearned for. While far from irredeemable, They Live in My Head struggles to inspire. While the album is full of calls to arms and fiery language, the band played it safe in terms of the music itself — They Live in My Head won't spark revolution anytime soon.
