I was absolutely smitten with Chris Clark’s 2006 album, Body Riddle. It didn’t grab me immediately, but with time, it grew to be one of my favorite records released that year.
Last year’s Turning Dragon left me a bit cold. The reclusive genius of previous records had become quite the extrovert for a change. Much of the abstraction and complexity of his previous worked had been toned down in favor of more danceable, and dare I say, sunny material.
So, with Totems Flare, I had no clue which way he’d go. Turns out he went both ways at once, and with striking results.
“Outside Plume” opens the record with a strong declaration of purpose. It’s almost a primer on Clark’s approach, turning a wide disparity of ideas into a complex but cohesive whole. It shifts feel and tempo several times, and I find its approach to be very similar to “Radio Attack” by Prefuse 73.
“Growls Garden” throws a sort of red herring into the mix early on, with a sedate backing track and a repeated vocal bit that’s remniscient of Joy Division in its delivery. Just when it seems it’s pegged itself, it sprouts fangs in the lower registers, and the queasy recessed string-section tone he used so often on his first two records winds its way into the mix. At first it threatens mediocrity, then it turns into something quite amazing. Nice.
“Rainbow Voodoo” recalls the gargantuan frenzied two-step “Ted” from Body Riddle, but its odd lope is matched by an upbeat processed vocal track that I should find gimmicky and utterly hateful. But here, he’s integrated it so well with the music, it ends up being not only catchy but indispensable. I’ve no clue as to the lyrics (“the elastic snacks and wooden friendships die”), but the whole thing works, and there’s no arguing that.
“Look into the Heart Now” doesn’t raise my hackles, but the sheer textures he generates through manipulation of the vocal tracks keeps it afloat. Think of Lusine’s Inside/Out for a point of reference.
“Luxman Furs” and “Totem Crackerjack” are two excellent instrumentals that divide the record neatly between its first and second halves.
“Future Daniel” is a bit more linear and straightforward, with melodic material similar to the more overt pieces on Clarence Park. Although there’s a vocal track, it’s even less noticeable at first than the one on “Look into the Heart Now.” It’s as if he wants the vocals felt rather than heard as the record goes on.
“Talis” recalls the monotone vocals of “Growls Garden,” but it never seems to find its feet, and it plods rather than stomping.
That’s easily forgiven thirty seconds into “Suns of Temper.” Though it doesn’t scale the dizzying heights of “Matthew Unburdened,” that’s not the point. Its predecessor painted a windswept landscape punctuated by bursts of controlled, violent beauty, the approach here is far more focused. It’s both vast and concise, a dizzying network of changing gears and clashing ideas, all of them arresting, and the impression is that it can barely contain itself. By the time it’s finished, you’re left with no recollection of how it began, but the feeling that you’ve been taken on a ride is nonetheless real.
If I had to point to a single track in the man’s career and say, “that’s Clark’s id,” this would be it.
The album closes with “Absence,” a somewhat inconsequential but enjoyable rideout of looped pizzicato strings.
If Body Riddle made the listener lean in closer to find its charms, this record grabs the attention immediately. It’s no less vivid or detailed in its craftsmanship, and Clark’s mischevious genius is still in full force; it’s just that he’s no longer willing to wait around for us to catch up.
Good for him.
My one major caveat lies with the mastering on this record: it’s absolutely brutal through headphones. Below is the waveform for “Growls Garden.”
That’s some atrocious compression. I’ve harped on this before, and although I doubt we can reverse this trend, it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Seriously, I was listening to Bibio’s Ambivalence Avenue prior to this, and the change in volume was shocking. The Bibio record’s no slouch in the volume department, but this is just over the top.
I can’t hear any clipping per se, but then again, Clark’s pallette is full of squelch to begin with. Though nothing feels squashed and the upper range is somewhat clear, the midrange is too pronounced, and the whole record comes across as abrasive where it shouldn’t be.
This isn’t 1963, and we’re not dealing with amplitude modulation. There’s simply no reason this record should be making my teeth rattle in their sockets. While I’m enjoying it, I’m doing so in spite of the sound quality.