Crack Cloud, The Secret Beach, and Bells Larsen
Crack Cloud
Tough Baby // Meat Machine Records
When writing about a group like Crack Cloud, it’s easy to get swept away in the landslide of ideas that surround such a rigorously conceptual group. Crack Cloud is a band, but surrounding that band is a greater multimedia collective of filmmakers, social workers, designers and artists of all kinds. Their members’ backgrounds vary widely, and this polyphonic mindset is reflected in their hugely ambitious work.
In contrast to the airtight brick-and-mortar snap of 2018’s self-titled release and expanding on their flair for the theatrical on the titanic 2020 album Pain Olympics, the songs on their newest album Tough Baby soar and expand. Their signature propulsive rhythm section is augmented here by swelling choirs, with strings and glockenspiel brightening their previously apocalyptic palette. As always, one of the band’s greatest strengths has been capturing the ineffable energy of a room full of people: chanting, shouting, dancing, coming together to realize an idea. More than songs, they are able to make their music feel like an event— a happening, maybe.
At the opening of the album, we are met with the words of Danny Choy, the father of drummer and frontman Zach Choy. Danny has recorded this message for his young children after being diagnosed with leukemia at the age of twenty-nine. “Danny’s Message” forms the emotional overture for the album, laying all the cards on the table. Though the songs to follow come in the wake of this reflection of loss, Danny Choy’s words are enlivening, a call to action: “Music is an excellent way to let your anger out.”
“Costly Engineered Illusion” does precisely that. It has everything that makes Crack Cloud great, with its driving rhythm, huge saxophone, snarled lyrics, and a room full of people shouting along. The hard-hitting industrial face-melter “Virtuous Industry” is something like slamming your head through a TV playing old Temple Ov Psychick Youth VHS tapes in a dim cement basement. The production is massive. The punishing beat of “Criminal” tears a gaping, ragged hole in the fabric of the album, an excoriation of trauma and a crushing condemnation of the prison-industrial complex. The ecstatic heights of songs like “Afterthought (Sukhi’s Prayer)” present us with a song only to step back and fold it back in on itself, chewing it up and spitting it out again and again.
Tough Baby drills straight to the core of alienation, loss of identity, disenfranchisement, mass consumerism, political corruption. That said, it is also at times undeniably hopeful. Following those opening lines from a loving father, it ultimately ends as it begins: a father’s voice intoning that he “Hopes you learned something.” Crack Cloud, in my view, has not brought forward a work that is optimistic, but one that celebrates resilience. Recovery is not about “cure” after all, but about reorienting oneself toward beauty. In their words, the Earth is one tough baby. And though wounded, we will survive.
- Harman Burns
The Secret Beach
Songs from The Secret Beach // Victory Pool
If I was a betting man, I’d guess that Micah Erenberg had a pretty swell summer. Sorry— Micah, or The Secret Beach, is truly a busy guy these days. Coming of off a release tour and a new album (with more dates coming), The Secret Beach seems to have had a really swell summer.
The record I’m talking about is the new release under his Secret Beach moniker, Songs from the Secret Beach. Micah handled the producing duties as well as played most of the instruments on the record. In fact, his Instagram feed (@_thesecretbeach) is a treasure trove of break downs of his songs, with Micah himself guiding you through his process next to a mixing board. Gold for music nerds such as myself… but back to the music itself.
This record is a must add for lazy summer days….his playful lyrics and deadpan delivery…..almost talking sometimes….are relaxing in nature and toe tapping upon delivery.
The album starts with the epic and sprawling “The Secret Beach”. A song about reflection and lament for friends lost, both figuratively and literally. But it’s not a sad song, far from it…..this tune will get you up off your feet dancing around the living room. Heavy velvet underground vibes….and a feeling of the 60’s sinks in and holds on.
Next up is a song for his sister. Though, it sounds like he’s again doing a bit of reflecting and giving himself some good advice. I’m fact, this whole record feels as if it was born of a ton of heavy life experiences and the thought and reflection of said events.
Take “God is” for example. This is a heavy song. But a beautifully written one. Here the Secret Beach asks some serious questions….taking it all from a “book he read”. This song is pure poetry and a great example of the massive wordsmith that Micah is.
Words aren’t his only strong point either. The musicianship on this record is outstanding with Erenberg himself doing most of the heavy lifting:). He has a pretty nice scoop of helping hands though with both Clayton Lithicum and Kacy Anderson
(Kacy & Clayton) being stand outs for this writer (you know I love the sasky connections!!)
He also had a pretty talented producer in Rob Schnapf (Kurt Vile, Beck) lending a hand with mixing duties. As mentioned before, Micah handled the producing on this one as he is also a great producer in some of his spare time. I don’t know where he finds the time…..The Secret Beach seems like he had a pretty swell summer.
See for yourself though: this album is beautiful, playful, deep, honest, and so very much more. One for the vinyl collection for sure… I’ve already got my copy.
- Chris Vasseur
Bells Larsen
Good Grief // Next Door Records
The first track begins; it’s a group of voices singing Sufjan’s “The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!”, and the tone is set for a bunch of indie kids to talk about growing up. Though this isn’t a walk in the park for Bells Larsen (they/he); Bells has had to learn the hard way what it means to grow up quickly after the death of his teenage love which he explores in depth on his new album Good Grief. As we get into the album, we realise that the first song holds much richer meaning for Bells now, with Cara’s voice (Bells’ late partner) heard loud and clear in the centre of the choir–“my friend is gone, she ran away, I can tell you I’ll love her each day.” This refrain acts as a thesis statement for the entire album, with Bells expressing many times how he will always have love for his first.
“Most of my songs are about you, there’s not much else to say that’s new”.
Bells is gentle and moving, slowly leading us through the art gallery of his loss, lingering at each piece a little longer than the last. He weaves in and out between stream of consciousness writing and deeply poetic metaphors, desperately trying to make sense of a life gone way too soon. But there’s not much sense to be made, just meanderings through the tiny details of life that others might miss. They also aren’t afraid to give us some indie-rock bops, with “Double Aquarius” coming in strong on track 3: cue the cool-kid-outsider montage in your new favourite indie flick.
It’s incredibly refreshing to hear an album that is so loving, beautiful, and uplifting while working through such heavy content. In our current days of skeleton-clad death-obsessed emo celebrities (not that I don’t absolutely love it…), it’s nice to not feel more depressed after listening to an album that deals with such existential reflections. I think Bells masters this by not being too pretentious in the delivery or production of this album; there are some real beautiful moments of basement-recording drums and guitars, with every instrument adding so much by adding so little. Every choice is perfect and intentional, allowing the lyrics and Bells effortless voice to float through the mix.
I don’t think artists are given enough credit for the vulnerability they offer to their fans through their music–no one would blame Bells if they processed these thoughts alone, saved some of their grief for their own solitude. This isn’t your regular teenage hardships, this is the loss of a friend, first love, a significant life-changing event for someone so young. Yet, they’ve allowed others into their processing of grief, understanding that others might be able to hold on to little glistens of comfort for their own grief journeys. Afterall, the album is called Good Grief which gives us the sense that in some ways, Bells has been able to come out the other side with some wisdom, growth, or peace. And that’s all one can ask for–the pain never leaves, it just changes; “I thought I could alleviate the pain, the past tense will never suit the cadence of your name. You used to fit me like a glove. Now I’m searching for the fragile fragments of Teenage Love”.
- Lana Winterhalt
