Pitchfork

Ah, the bass guitar. So overlooked, so underappreciated. Look how it sits, looking so innocuous, so pure. Its warm, rich tones and angelic harmonics tell a story of innocence and chastity. But its seductive curves, its smooth metallic hardware, and its rock-hard, finely crafted neck tell another story. Oh, how it begs to be perverted! To be slapped, to be twisted, to be warped, to be forced into making terrible, alienating sounds.

Lightning Bolt bassist Brian Gibson is perfectly in tune with the secret language of the bass guitar. He knows all its tricks. He knows when it says it's going to call him, and when it really is going to call him. He knows that, no matter how harmless it pretends to be, all it wants is to be fed back through a 32 bajillion-watt amplifier.

Upon first listen, you may be hard pressed to believe that the squealing, searing treble tones you're hearing on Ride the Skies are indeed being produced by a bass guitar; the idea of scorching riffs being played by a bass seemed to bite the dust when Cliff Burton got squashed by his tour bus. But on Ride the Skies, Gibson makes his bass do things that would make a whore blush, resulting in some of the most distinctive tones ever to be produced from the instrument.

Brian Chippendale, a drummer and vocalist who's known to impress his audiences with small feats of gymnastics between songs, rounds off the dynamic duo of Brians that is Lightning Bolt. With a style that's similarly frantic, though decidedly more conventional than his fellow Brian, Chippendale completes the musical package nicely, intensifying the furious energy that makes Ride the Skies so fucking awesome.

Indeed, the palpable energy that permeates Ride the Skies is Lightning Bolt's greatest asset. Sure, this is instrumental rock, but it bears none of the sterility of a band like Don Caballero; if this is math-rock, it's math-rock made by kids who failed math. Add to this the we-don't-give-a-fuck attitude of Boredoms' propensity towards sonic exploration, and Lightning Bolt become a force to reckon with.

While the band's death metal-meets-free jazz sound is maintained consistently well over the course of the record, there are a few highlights that are definitely worth mentioning. The album's opener, "Forcefield", begins with high-pitched, end-heavy squeals that sound like a synthesizer, or maybe a guitar being run through some heavy effects pedals. But certainly not a bass. As the song builds, the quasi-electronic bass sounds give way to terrifying blasts of pure fuzz-- a medium that Lightning Bolt manages to infuse with distilled energy, making it some of the most convincing noise ever to come out of Rhode Island.

"13 Monsters" sees Lightning Bolt ripping apart schoolyard chants, Brian Chippendale's fractured vocals sounding like they're being screamed through a megaphone that could use a couple of fresh Duracells. On "The Faire Folk", Brian Gibson's bass finally sounds like a bass, at least for a little while. See, one of the great things about Ride the Skies is that you can never expect one sound to stick around for long-- the songs embody a perfect blend of spontaneity that, while often repetitive, manages to never become dull.

So it seems that Lightning Bolt have managed to do what many would have deemed impossible: They've created a hard rock album centered around the bass that doesn't suck. But you know the bass always wanted it. It's been begging for it all along... secretly. It was only a matter of time before some guys named Brian would come along with open ears and fulfill its secret desire to squeal and wail at ear-shattering decibels.