:: Track Listing

1. Mirror on You [Stream]
2. Colette
3. Dr. Freeze
4. Sabina
5. Piece of Mind
6. Law of Johnny Dolittle
7. Those Who Don’t Blink
8. Pigeneration
9. Mr. Ratatatatat
10. Paperweights
11. Labyrinth
12. Ashish


:: Record Review

Enon

Grass Geysers...Carbon Clouds
(Touch & Go; 2007)

Rating: 72%
Combined Rating: 74%


After the tragedy of Timmy Taylor's death ended Brainiac -- the best art-punk act to come out of Ohio since their progenitors Pere Ubu -- guitarist John Schmersal joined with ex-Skeleton Key members Rick Lee and Steve Calhoon for Enon debut Believo! (1999). A record of varying stylistic high points -- from the tranquilized and debauched Prince groove of "Rubber Car" to the suffocating trip-lounge of "Cruel" to whatever hyphenates you wanna throw at the title track's tight approach to krautrock -- it was also a record where all those high points occurred in the first half. Still, the best songs hinted at a band that might take Brainiac's wry oppressiveness and use it to explore and conquer genre territories that Taylor never got a chance to screw. Then Calhoon left, Lee's role minimized, and Schmersal had to start over. He enlisted drummer Matt Schulz and keyboardist/bassist/vocalist Toko Yasuda, who added a touch of J-pop (a purely ethnic association, maybe, but listen to "In This City"). Resulting sophomore record High Society (2002) was eclectic as shit. I mean, "Sold!" sounds like Fountains of Wayne.

This new Enon's versatility was dazzling enough to forgive the fact that (outside of maybe "Diamond Raft") nothing on High Society really followed up on the razor blades and swamp fog of Believo!'s moody front end. When Hocus Pocus came around the very next year, it felt as if the band (now completely sans Rick Lee) had fallen into the tropes of their own diversity, motioning through however many different kinds of songs they could without working towards anything more unified or effective. As gems like "Daughter in the House of Fools" and "Mikazuki" could attest, Enon was still a good band, but it sounded like a good band trying to catch up with itself or to figure out where "itself" even began. Like Yasuda was about to go off and do a nice solo record, leaving Schmersal to find Enon's missing link to a past legacy. And Schulz would get fed up with making no money and become a session drummer. I thought Enon was done. I was wrong.

Besides releasing a rarities collection, I'm not sure what Enon's been doing in the four years since Hocus Pocus. I know they had to leave New York for "sixth borough" Philly due to financial constraints, so maybe they've been busy with 9-to-5s. 'Cause Grass Geysers...Carbon Clouds certainly doesn't sound like an album of songs (over)cultivated through constant touring or meticulous/self-destructive studio fiddling. It is not In Rainbows. I wouldn't be surprised if its entire making consisted of the band buying a few cases of High Life (remember, they're poor), going into the studio for a week or two, and busting out a record. No demos, no pre-production, no storyboards. But maybe that four year interim was the kind of time that Schmersal, Yasuda, and Schulz needed to spend together in order to consolidate their band's inherent incongruity.

"Mirror on You" is the perfect choice to open the album, a well-under two minute confluence of all that Enon was and is that also happens to kick ass. Yasuda's presence jumps out first, her scaling of the word "mirror" echoing against itself and her nasty bass riff pushed to prominence in the mix. Schmersal employs his falsetto and indulges in a noisy guitar solo while Schulz holds everything down with the drums and the handclaps that snap-lock the measures together. Schmersal may be saying "I put the mirror on you," but this is Enon putting the mirror on itself. Yasuda has lead vocal on "Colette" but instead of synth pop we find that her bass is still nasty, Schmersal's guitar still damaged, and Schulz' kit still rattling; what we had come to expect is tucked away at the two-minute mark, where the dudes' ruckus falls away and Yasuda translates the ebb of her bass line into a diaphanous key wash while bird noises somehow avoid farce. It's a mere twenty seconds of bliss before the rock comes crashing back in, but far from diminishing the rewards of Yasuda's grace, the encroachment makes it feel more vital -- a respite huddled between slabs of aggression. I've read complaints about how this album is wont for the band's range and their toying with sonic details; I dunno, guys, the synths are pretty squelchy on "Dr. Freeze" while the melodies are pretty catchy.

That isn't to say that this isn't a more straightforward rock record than anything they've done to date because, yeah, obviously. It is to say that most of the disparate elements are still there -- just more naturally grafted together, inside songs rather than across songs, making each track an example of what Enon can be as a unit. But some of the examples are more exemplary than others.

"Those Who Don't Blink" is a blistering punk track that Yasuda's sweet vocals actually complement because they keep up with the track's energy. Without that sort of element in "Piece of Mind" the song's left indistinct, lost in the album's somewhat muddled middle section. And I'm probably not supposed to think about it this way, but when Schmersal told Pitchfork that the ellipsis was essential to the album title because "that's where the shit goes down," it basically founded my perception of the album's structure: the opening tracks are a spewing of new life for the band, the closing tracks an inevitably atmospheric finish, and then whatever the hell they wanted to throw into the middle. The second act of Grass Geysers...Carbon Clouds really is like an ellipsis, spotty as a series of dots, periods unto themselves without complete thoughts behind them: the chorus of "The Law of Johnny Dolittle" is a strained syllable; Yasuda drops a scattering of key words on "Pigeneration" that ask to be connected into the vaguest of social protests; it's almost a no-brainer that "Pigeneration" and "Mr. Ratatatat" should have switched places as the record winds down into its final act. While individually the songs themselves are plenty appealing, the ellipsis cops out on sequencing and conceptual development, so it's relieving to arrive at the record's exhalation, its carbon clouds.

Back to those decrying this record as Enon turning plain, the slew of synth textures that battle it out in the background of "Paperweights" should quiet them, especially if they pay any attention to the breakdown where unbalanced pitches grind against each other from across the channel divide. Yet it remains connected to those grass geysers because of the grimy bass sound and Schulz' insistent drumming. The bass assumes a mannered march for "Labyrinth" to follow the percussive loop on which both Schulz and Schmersal play off; the rock outburst in the second half ensures that the song's still party to the album's systemic integration. Most different and most stunning, though, closer "Ashish" implies a final ellipsis that's exciting because it's suggestive, not lazily interstitial. Fragments of heavily processed guitar whirl and flutter above the rhythm section coursing forward in clacking syncopation, Yasuda's vocals put starkly in spotlight despite all the sound rippling around her. I consider this the first definitively Yasuda song where both Schulz and Schmersal get to do what they do best (provide a strong backbone and a collage of guitar tones, respectively) with all of it working in the song's form. Less of an experiment than Enon finally mastering their slow song, "Ashish" joins "Mirror on You" and "Collete" (which equal Enon finally mastering their rock song) as the three best examples of the band's holistic potential.

If Future of the Left is the rebirth of McLusky into something more concentrated, this album's Enon feels like a similar deal -- just without a change in name or members. But Curses is great for its uncompromising simplicity, its dead-eye resolve and classic arc, while Grass Geysers...Carbon Clouds still has that damn ellipsis. So the record fails as a self-sufficient statement, but after eight years of existence Enon has at long last become an entity capable of releasing a great album rather than just a collection of great songs that have little to do with each other. This isn't that great album, but it might be the verge.

Chet Betz :: 15 October 2007 |