Pitchfork

Some things in life are inevitable. According to my friend Joel Bogorad, even Bogorad is inevitable. Nothing Bogorad says or does is a matter of his choice, and nothing he will do can be altered or prevented. Bogorad's final chapter is already written, even though he has yet to find out the ending. Believe Bogorad, and you share the same fate. After all, Bogorad is a determinist-- he believes that every choice he makes is determined by prior experiences, dating back to before his birth. Because he can do nothing to change those experiences, he has absolutely no choice in his future. It will happen, and he won't have a thing to do with it. How Bogorad sleeps, I don't know.

Silver Mt. Zion are likewise pledged to the inevitable. According to members of the Canadian collective, the demise of humanity is as inevitable as Bogorad himself. Globalization, the prison industrial complex and "terminal economies of blood," are processes and entities on an irreversible course toward ruin. Efrim, Sophie, Thierry, Beckie, Ian and Jessica have no illusions of changing fate; they simply aim for virtue.

The music of Silver Mt. Zion embodies that worldview. They're clearly not competing for listeners. If they are, they're doing everything wrong-- no catchy melodies, no hooks, no guitar solos, no cleavage. And I dare you to mass produce their packaging (all cardboard, a full page of anti-capitalist calligraphy, and, oh yeah, a picture of an old guy trying to revive a dead person. Nice). No, the goal is not popular stardom, or even acceptance. Rather, it's musical integrity; to create gorgeous music without regard for convention. Furthermore, as fans of Silver Mt. Zion (and their foster-parents, Godspeed You Black Emperor!) have come to appreciate, their sullen, brooding arrangements could do as much to communicate the ruin of humanity as ten Efrim interviews.

Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward is a regally ambitious album, even by this band's standards. Even so, you wouldn't know it from the first two tracks. The opening composition, "Sisters! Brothers! Small Boats are Falling from the Sky!" is updated chamber music, opening with a percussive echo that gives way to a simple, four-note string arrangement. Both yield as a mournful piano melody enters, complemented by chamber strings and the faint buzz-wail of manipulated tape. The song builds strength, but never reaches crescendo, leaving the listener to cope with unresolved sadness. "This Gentle Hearts Like Shot Bird's Fallen" employs similar dynamics, moving from the concocted chirps and echoes to a disquieted string theme.

The problem in striving for high art is that sometimes pretentiousness, like Bogorad, is also inevitable. The members of Silver Mt. Zion have always flirted with pretentiousness, but in most cases, they've remained clearly on the side of profundity. Unfortunately, the flirting on prior albums and projects has developed into a full-borne crush. For example, the monologue on "Built Then Burnt (Hurrah! Hurrah!)" is unbearably amateurish, delivered by either a bad child actor, or a bad adult actor doing a child's voice. As bad as the monologue is, the swarm of whiny, multi-tracked voices on the tense, grating "Take These Hands and Throw Them in the River" is worse. "Worse," as in, it reminded me of the Scorpions (yes, those Scorpions). The vocals on this track-- performed by the band's Constellation Records labelmate Frankie Sparo-- aren't far removed from the gritty operatics of front-Scorpion Klaus Meine, and they're delivered with all the false melodrama of Queensryche.

After this, however, Silver Mt. Zion returns to form, following the compellingly distraught "Could've Moved Mountains" with the soundtrack-ish (albeit slightly boring) "Tho You Are Gone I Still Often Walk w/You." The most dynamic selection on Born into Trouble, and its only real rock number, is "C'mon Come On (Loose an Endless Longing)," which-- after building into noise-- fades into formless ambience, then returns to rock with a completely indulgent and entirely satisfying overblown full-band catharsis. The closing number stands out, as well, because it's actually a "song," and because it isn't nearly as depressing as the rest of the album. But they do sing about guns, cancer, barricades, "losing your way," and shit like that, so what do I know? It sounds kind of pretty.

I'll stand by this band-- they're still too good to be true. But, like the rest of us ignorant, inevitable human beings, Silver Mt. Zion occasionally slips. Here, the slips are noticeable, and the formula wears a little thin, but for the most part, Born into Trouble remains an intense and engaging album.