Pitchfork

Ditching Berliniamsburg for the real deal, Liars moved to Germany in late 2004 to replant their roots in fresh cultural soil and begin recording their third album in a studio that offered creative possibilities too fertile to resist: The acoustically rich radio facility in the former East Germany boasts a labyrinthine system of rooms, each with its own distinct acoustic advantages. The trio's relocation is sure to be cited as the impetus for the Krautrock-like propulsivity of the resulting LP, but prior to the change of scenery they were exploring this kind of dark percussiveness on 2004's They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. Most listeners had shrugged that album off for its dissimilarity to the band's acclaimed dance-punk debut, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, but while hectic, less refined, and at times sloppy, the underrated They Were Wrong marked the shift in direction that would lead Liars to the ethereal gorgeousness of Drum's Not Dead.

Highlighted by taut improvisation and frontman Angus Andrew's mastery of falsetto, the record's resolute seamlessness may be attributable to growth through practice: Liars wrote and recorded one album, but, not wholly satisfied with the results, decided against releasing it. Instead, that material was used as a blueprint for what became Drum's Not Dead, and in the process, the band cast off They Were Wrong's witches and Walpurgisnacht. Granted, there is still a conceptual libretto, this time centered on the universal struggle between confidence and cowardice. These traits are represented by two characters: the instinctive and assertive Drum, and the pessimistic, apprehensive Mt. Heart Attack. Of course, as with They Were Wrong, any conceptual devices remain secondary to the sound and mood.

"Be Quiet Mt. Heart Attack!" perfectly sets the stage, as fractured guitar waves, opiate military percussion, and Andrew's windswept vocals careen into pitch-shifts which slightly deepen the shadows. Segueing into "Let's Not Wrestle Mt. Heart Attack", Liars let forth a siren call that bears an uncanny resemblance to the first few seconds of Faust's "The Sad Skinhead", then plunge into bubbling floor-tom/cymbal madness that echoes both Liquid Liquid and This Heat. The percussion is corporeal, tapping into some inner biological timepiece, and as on the album's best tracks, guitar notes are employed only as simple pulsing behind layered, seraphic vocals. Completing the mood-setting opening triad, "A Visit From Drum" is linked again by a vocal gasp; a less treated kit accompanies a floor tom/snare and the clattering of sticks for a creepy, mystic sounding incantation. Here and elsewhere, the guitar is an ambient sidekick to high-pitched vocals and tribal drumming.

Those first three songs are the album's strongest grouping, yet the excellent push/pull sequencing of Drum's Not Dead creates a shivery cumulative effect that spans the entire length of the record: By its closing notes, you're likely to find yourself awed and emotionally spent. "Drum Gets a Glimpse" pairs a mournful Eno-esque melodic sense with cymbal washes, M83 guitar tones, crickets, and Andrew trading lines between the naive and melancholy falsetto of Mt. Heart Attack ("It seems like all our friends have gone"), and the deeper, more authoritative Drum ("You drove them out").

Later, there are a couple of abstract pieces-- fuzzier, looping canyon bliss-outs with left-channel acoustic guitar; a bit of swirling, Sister-era Sonic Youth shredding-- along with a pair of standouts. The first of these, "Drum and the Uncomfortable Can", is coated in reverb that amplifies the intensity of the cannibalistic double drumming: It's primal marching band music wrapped in guitar feedback and a howling voice singing about hiding a body. The second comes with the straightforward, closing ballad "The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack", which resolves the album at its-- and the band's-- absolute peak. Like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' "Maps", its surprise sentimentality lends essential emotional weight, but does so with a dedicated restraint. Gentle guitar drifts accrue density alongside sighing vocals, warmed tom tom heartbeats, tiny instrumental accents (piano, tambourine, roughed-up strings), and Andrew's simple, sweet sentiments: "I won't run far, I can always be found"; "If you want me to stay, I will stay by your side."

For added value, Liars flesh things out with an accompanying DVD that presents three visual versions of the album: "Drum's Not Bread" by drummer Julian Gross, "The Helix Aspersa" by Andrew, and filmmaker Markus Wambsganss' "By Your Side". Due to its liberal use of live and studio footage (and farm animals, actually), Gross' best held my attention. More refined, Wambsganss creates effects with light and motion-- his three-channel video for "The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack" is his portion's most compelling moment. Maintaining a stoic minimalism, Andrew fixates on a snail's ponderous adventures through Germany.

Of course, the music remains the greatest draw. Those who previously yearned for a career trajectory the band wisely ditched ought to listen to Drum and keep track of the epiphanies. In the coming weeks, its strengths will win converts, even among those who'd previously jumped ship. But my favorite detail of this feel-good story-- popular Brooklyn post-punk band falls out of favor by changing directions and ultimately produces an album that eclipses its debut-- is that Liars are still waltzing along on their own terms. This, their third LP, shows zero concessions to the criticisms they received from publications like Spin and Rolling Stone, who awarded They Were Wrong their lowest possible marks. Succeeding rather than regressing or retreating, Liars have had the last laugh: Drum's Not Dead is a majestic victory lap, and on all levels, a total fucking triumph.

 

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