Edge of Arrival
Apes of God
A New Breed
by Leslie Anne McIlroy
It's sheer effrontery, this highly wrought, densely textured, lyrical procession;
this John Zorn meets Talking Heads on a winding road called "Dispense with Melody...Kind
of". This informal/formal game where music takes its cue from the wandering psyche
of the words and phonics, in polite reciprocation, lend pitch and tone to the assonance.
It's the Apes of God's third CD, Edge of Arrival
, and it's either brilliant or it's crap.
Whichever, it's worth noting that front-man, Gilbert Marhoefer, along with Dave Barrett
on sax, Myles Boisen on guitar, Jason Gibbs on electronic keyboards and percussion,
Nik Phelps on flute and horns, and Catherine Clune and Katrina Wreede on strings,
is essentially redefining song through the creation of an approach divulged through
a variety of disciplines.
Ostensibly labeled "Actuelle"--a French term meaning "multi-genre"--these songs play(in
plain old Pittsburgh terms) like a musical mutt with a spiritual/lyrical collar.
But descriptive aside, what really matters when it comes to new music is if you like
it or you don't. And when it comes to Edge of Arrival
, I like it and I don't.
What I like is the effrontery part. The balls that it takes to invent your own form.
You've heard of abstract art? This is abstract song. ANd with that said, the same
circumstances we find with abstract art is difficult to achieve (the number of abstract
paintings that distinctly resemble a hairball prove my point). Good abstract takes
an ability to conjure verisimilitude, and in this case, a strong desire from the
listener to attend closely to the listening for subtext, construction of meaning,
point of view and purpose. What I'm saying is, you're going to have to work here, almost as
hard as the Apes did in the writing and production of this artistic hybrid.
That's right, they're busy breeding, those Apes--mad scientists laying insouciant jazz
and bold cartoon snippets in the same bed. Letting tawdry rock remnants roll in the
sack with pretentiously subtle classical forms. Encouraging experimental Laurie Anderson/Yoko Ono ravings to seduce cranky Whitmanesque and Warholian pundits.
Take for instance, "Op Art". "Op Art" is a lovely mix of David Byrne-like observations
in that familiar alien/disenfranchised voice combined with the psychedelic chorus
of female fervor typical of the B-52s. The song in a wonderful parody recalling a
cross between a James Bond movie and a party at The Factory, built upon the foundations
of a bracing rock beat and fizzled by geometric techno-lyrics.
"Why Can't Lansberry Get His Mail", on the other hand, offers a Tom Waits kind of
vocal delivery reminiscent of Bone Machine with a tribal drumming/unearthly woodwind
screech in the background that conveys just a hint of madness. The lyrics themselves
explore the social plight and conspiracy suffered by poor Lansberry, a Pittsburgh native
who spent the better part of this years walking through downtown with a sandwich
board on decrying his inability to receive mail. I couldn't make this up...
With oral presentation (like performance poetry) guiding word choice, Marhoefer writes
these songs using a variety of poetic devices from repetition and alliteration to
imagery and work rhythm. Essentially a poetry of the psyche, he explores social commentary, political parody, phenomenology and the liminal at a crossroads where the concrete
and the imaginary intersect. Elements of language poetry, as well as the introduction
of a variety of voices/personas give the songs color and vitality, felicity and freshness often lacking in today's beige musical industry.
That's all the good. The bad? It's the melody thing. If you are, as I am, a die-hard
rock-n-roll girl (long live Lou Reed and Mick) then it's difficult to wean yourself
from the need for a driving back beat and kick-ass chorus. More importantly, it's
that line you cling to that just about breaks your heart, the "I'm in love with a Jersey
Girl" or the "Sweet Jane", that you always come back to. It's what these songs MEAN.
The passion and emotion; the story and the soul.
Of course, with rock n' roll it just sort of washes over you effortlessly. With the
Apes of God, there's that labor factor. The listening hard, the sorting through,
the ambiguity in the lyrics, the multi-faceted point of view, the wanderings. It's
quite another animal.
A new breed.