Battles, Gloss Drop
Reviewed by: Chris Bosman
“Africastle,” the first track off of Gloss Drop, is the first many will hear from Battles since their split with de facto frontman Tyondai Braxton, who left the group to pursue his solo career. It’s been roughly four years since the debut Battles LP, Mirrored, and the silence was especially disconcerting for a band that, prior to Mirrored, was fairly prolific in their output, both in terms of amount and in stylistic variety. Their pre-Mirrored EPs experimented with rhythms and tones relentlessly, sometimes coming off half-baked and sometimes coming off genius, and that 2007 full-length showed that they were onto something truly special. The silence that followed was kind of deafening.
But “Africastle” picks up almost exactly where Mirrored left off: Experiments with time signatures, delicately crafted instrumental tones, melodies that were dark and dreary around the corners, rhythms that were relentlessly complex and innovative yet still served the song as a whole. It’s as if those four years were just a moment.
That feeling changes abruptly on “Ice Cream,” though not in a bad way. A ping-ponging guitar riff opens the song, quickly morphing into a jam band vibe that Phish would be proud of, but adding unmistakably Battles-esque layers and tones. Legendary techno producer Matias Aguayo joins the band on vocals, and damned if it isn’t possible after two songs that Gloss Drop might actually be better than Mirrored.
Unfortunately, that feeling only lasts so long. As the album progress, it quickly becomes clear that Battles is just missing something that no amount of guest singers (others include the Boredoms’ Yamantaka Eye, Blonde Redhead’s Kazu Makino, and the WTF-worthy Gary Numan) can replace: Braxton. Even on Mirrored, the band’s intricate balancing act between spastic energy and immaculate control could become too cerebral, like it was an art-school experiment rather than a collection of songs. It was Braxton’s multi-tracked vocals, Chipmunk-ed and slowed down, warped and layered, that grounded them. While musically interesting, the entire middle section of Gloss Drop is lacking in personality. In particular, the stretch from “Futura” to “My Machines” is brutal. The time off may not have slowed down Battles at all, but the absence of Braxton has.
That’s probably harsher than is absolutely necessary. The second half of the album tries on much shorter song lengths and is more successful for it; even in a 108-second song like “Dominican Fade,” these guys can’t resist gear shifts, and hearing those shifts packed more densely together makes for engaging moments. Additionally, listening to something like Makino’s playful voice dancing over the regimented inanity of “Sweetie & Shag” makes for the type of personable moment that Battles delivered in spades on Mirrored. And if you’re impressed by the sheer spectacle of music, there may not be a better band out there right now. Gloss Drop is challenging and experimental, still catchy and listenable, and ridiculously tight. It’s the type of thing that would replace Mozart as the “play this to your baby in the womb to make them smarter” music.
What’s disappointing, and maybe unfairly, is how much you can hear what’s not there, even though Braxton’s leaving was not entirely unexpected. I saw the band play at Pitchfork Music Festival shortly after Mirrored came out, where they experienced a technical difficulty with one of Tyondai’s pedals. The same loop played for roughly five minutes, with Braxton shrugging his shoulders as if to say “well, what now?” and the rest of the band shaking their heads in exasperation. It wasn’t quite a rift, but it certainly showed a marked difference between Braxton and the rest of the band. But when that pedal got replaced, the band kicked into a gear few bands have, live or on record. They worked best together. Gloss Drop unfortunately just proves that point.