Review: These New Puritans – Hidden
“Wu-Tang Clan are massively influential”. So claims Jack Barnett, songwriter for Essex natives These New Puritans. The 9 emcees from Staten Island don’t immediately register as a possible source of inspiration for “Hidden”, the band’s latest release. It’s hard to imagine an album full of flourishes of classical horns and bassoons, massive tribal rhythms and generally no street rapping being at all related to any of hip-hop’s landmark albums. Then again, it’s hard to imagine exactly just what Barnett and his band mates might actually listen to in their spare time. Their latest output shares a similarly haunting aura to Mezzanine and has tingly bell parts not unlike the theme from Halloween, but other than those works TNP’s mixing of electronica and classical, of grimy club songs with orchestral interludes, is both puzzling and intriguing.
The most gripping element of Hidden’s experimental formula is easily its percussion. Tracks like “Attack Music” and “Fire Power” are dominated by big booming drums. The rhythms themselves are often tribal, like the brutish stomp of “We Want War”, but also military-like, such as the disciplined pounding of “Attack music”. In fact, the percussion is not the only element of the record that evokes images of war and military conquest. Seemingly mindless vocals are often chanted in step with the drums, like a military commander belting orders to his battalion. All the song titles mentioned above suggest some kind of relation to war, and sounds effects of swords clashing and slicing against each other further drive it home.
If this is a war record as its elements suggest, it’s not made up of victory marches and odes to falls soldiers. Instead, the album’s dark sonic texture suggests it has a much more nihilistic relationship to warfare. For example, the prominence of the percussion and of deep, droning electronics on “Three Thousand” evoke imagery of infantry crawling rhythmically on their bellies through the mud and darkness. The addition of a basic, haunting bell riff adds a sinister feel, as if those soldiers pressed against the Earth are about to be decimated by an unseen field of landmines. The adding and subtracting of pummelling drums on “Drum Courts” builds a thickening tension, as if between two armies waiting for the decisive command to annihilate the other. The melancholy choir featured prominently on “Orion” suggests a crowd of civilians mourning the death of their townfolk, until the ever-present boom of the drums kicks in and tramples them and their voices.
But the darkness and claustrophobia of the record aren’t so total as to squeeze all life from its confines. The opening 90 seconds of “Time Xone” consists of light, dignified horns, foreshadowing other moments of modest beauty that shine through the usual blackness. “Hologram” is another short number, but its jazzy piano and bright bells mark a distinct change from the much more stifling tracks that bookend it. What tenderizes the album most however are Barnett’s rare vocal melodies. For most of “Drum Courts” (and the album as a whole), he chants his words monotonously until a brief moment of the song where he softens his vocals and sings one of the album`s more affecting melodies. On the final track with vocals “White Chords” Barnett whispers at minimal volume before unleashing his most anguished pleas yet during the chorus. Such moments add a real humanity to the album, creating a distinct contrast between the machine-like darkness that grips most of the album and the brief rays of light that expose the real emotion that the band is able to channel.
The oddness of hearing trip-hop aesthetics mixed with melodies of polite trumpets and trombones might be enough to distract from Hidden’s significant value as a work of music. But once its novelty is shaken off, it reveals itself as a varied and engaging listen. The band manages to pull off tribal and aggressive electronica, but keeps its dark texture smooth enough so that elements of classical music can be worked in without a jarring effect. This is why the album works for the most part, and is saved from being just another failed mish-mash of musical genres. It’s starker, almost oppositional elements weave around and absorb each other for a fairly novel experience, like a musical flame lapping up the darkness which never seems to snuff it out.
By Ryan Tolusso
