67. Isis – Wavering Radiant 2LP – Ipecac, 2009 – $25

Ever since I learned my lesson about blind-buying $20 LPs with The Arcade Fire’s hugely disappointing Neon Bible, I’ve made a habit of giving a few spins to any recent releases before purchasing them new. (My used LP buying habits more than make up for this lack of unfamiliar ground.) Isis’s Wavering Radiant is a slight exception, since I’d listened to and enjoyed a few songs from it since the record first leaked, but I hadn’t given it a full listen. It’s not a matter of me not enjoying those songs—“Ghost Key” matches the highlights from In the Absence of Truth, “Holy Tears” and “Garden of Light”—but I just haven’t been in the mood to listen to a whole Isis album. Panopticon and Oceanic are absorbing, consistent LPs, but they’re also draining experiences. I’m still willing to drop a steep $25 on the double LP, however, trusting their consistent output a bit more than The Arcade Fire (even if In the Absence of Truth was a notch below Panopticon).

It’s unfortunate that Isis strayed from their usual fall release schedule, since the group’s oppressive post-metal begs for dark evenings and creeping frost. Judging from my scattered listens, Wavering Radiant returns to some of the pre-Oceanic riffs and aggression without losing those drifting, devastating instrumental passages (the bridge of “20 Minutes / 40 Years” certainly counts). There’s no shortage of chorus-laden, Peter Hook-style bass leads, atmospheric keyboards, or Aaron Turner’s vocals, but those guitar riffs keep things centered. I would prefer smaller doses of Turner’s guttural screams and Tool-informed singing voice, but the balance between those two approaches seems to be better than In the Absence of Truth, which relied too much on the melodic vocals. Check in with me in November to see how this album’s holding up.

Even though it’s an albatross for people trying to push away from the Pitchfork crowd, I’ll readily admit my fondness for the Arcade Fire’s Funeral. I saw the band back in November of 2004 and was completely pulled in by their enthusiastic performance at a small club in Champaign. I fully expected a rise in popularity, but I’m not sure if I anticipated things like the David Bowie and David Byrne collaborations. Given this overwhelming hype for the band and the record, I decided to wait until I could pick up Neon Bible on vinyl before giving it a listen. (Well, I heard “No Cars Go,” but that one’s a re-recording.) I figured two things—one, it would be a throwback to my high school days of purchasing the album on the day of release and quickly heading home to hear it in its entirety; and two, I wouldn’t get too involved in the initial rush to judgment. I did not know that the vinyl release would come two months after the CD release, but I decided to wait anyway.

I picked up the album last week and finally found the spare hour to hear it tonight. I wrote down my notes in haikus, inspired by Floodwatchmusic’s reviews of each song, so I’ll start with those:

“Black Mirror”
Awkward stage banter:
“This one’s about my mirror.
Pretty dark, huh guys?”

“Keep the Car Running”
Let’s add some hand claps.
That last one was a downer.
Now we’re smiling, scared.

“Neon Bible”
A concept record
About not having much fun
Certainly not here.

“Intervention”
Hear this soldier groan.
Order them some subtlety,
Destroy that organ.

“Black Moon / Bad Vibrations”
New side, more Regine.
Did she get concept memo?
Some fun to be had.

“Ocean of Noise”
After muted start
Strings arrive, aching wildly.
Phew, just in time, Win.

“The Well and the Lighthouse”
An uptempo romp
Gazing upon “water black.”
Overbearing hope.

“Antichrist Television Blues”
The E Street Band called,
Said you could use some hot sax,
Less background yelping.

“Windowsill”
It’s not wartime angst.
More like “Screw you, Dad! I’m gone!”
Oh, see last album.

“No Cars Go”
Retread or new life?
Well, there is more energy.
But that “Woo!” was lame.

“My Body Is a Cage”
Starts off R&B
Then adds vampiric organ.
Train-wreck in slow-mo.

Those haikus may very well state similar sentiments to Floodwatch (I tried not to go over his before listening to the album), but I’m going to up the ante and write a sonnet about the album as a whole.

Neon Bible

Watching months lurch their way past my platter,
The anticipation caked up like dust.
Their exuberant whirl did not scatter,
It rather formed an exalted white bust.
With such iconic personage at stake,
How can one maintain realistic hope?
Bands must change, must evolve; the seams must break.
No choice but to explode, expand the scope.
Was this vigilant edict brought too far?
Now nothing seems out of bounds, no lines drawn.
The personal—once critical, now barred.
New task: to find the grass within the lawn.
From out of darkness into diaries,
To return voices from nations to pleas.

The bar has been raised, FWM. I expect Spenserian stanzas about each song of Stars of the Lid’s And Their Refinement of the Decline within the week.