In 2011, not much remains from the fragmented and often misunderstood culture surrounding a revival of emotive hardcore which was very much flourishing in the early 2000's. By the time Australia's My Disco flew into the radar, this was all but a thing of most people's past, with the majority of new groups offering insincere and confusing renditions of a flavor that had been turned over far too many times for it to be swallowed by any psuedo-adult who has actually been attending shows since the mid-90's.
This mattered not. They had a mature sound at birth, even when rooted in what would be a fairly undeniable "hardcore" arena, albeit: with much emphasis on their craft, un-assumed time signatures and impressively complex guitar work. Having nabbed up their 10" and subsequent split 7" with Off Minor, it was obvious that My Disco had a much broader audience, so long as people were willing to listen, and when hearing that they were going to be playing a house in Tempe, it was instinctual to call every single person that I knew who liked Shellac, even though the synchronism between those two groups had not at all yet become apparent.
When their first full length finally showed up, it was obvious that they had found a formula that worked for them: simple and repetitive, yet strangely aggressive in it's own way, the Shellac comparison that was premonition only was essentially a prediction that had come true, and when the following LP was recorded by Steve Albini and then mastered by Bob Weston, well, who could really argue with me? To be fair, when listening to either "Cancer" or "Paradise", I tend to think of Gang of Four, forced to slow down to 16rpm, yet commanding attention still, while allowing space to have a prominent role was well, minimalism as an active force, with the sparse moments offered: as passive or jagged as desired at any given moment.
Regardless: It's been a few years since "Paradise", and so I've been eagerly awaiting something new, assuming that there was going to be a few tweaks in their approach, and that finding out what the next slant would be: it would be an exciting task and an interesting listen.
"Little Joy" is fantastic.
Absent are the prominent bass lines, the ones which can't help but conjure "dancy post punk" from the fingers of any random person trying to type out a few paragraphs. Absent are the obvious sounds of the human voice, while it's still typical to be handed off a series of repeated phrases rather than a song's worth of lyrics, often they are spoken or found flowing throw the music instead of receiving "protest" treatment. Absent is their previous form of aggression: it has been digested, and calmly processed, settled and returned solemnly.
Strangely dark, almost eerie, even at it's more upbeat moments, "Little Joy" has the same depressive qualities that make New Order's "Movement" one of my favorite records: an ability to be addictive and in it's own special sort of way, still very much music that a room full of people could sway to without feeling odd about doing so. (The qualities that make this more akin to a classic 4AD or Factory Records release are plentiful and profound - it's captivating and feels honest, while still leans towards the outer most fringe level of music one could dance to).
However, sticking to aspects of their previous work, My Disco takes this sound and allows it to canvas several inches of each side of an LP at a time. For example: the second track, "You" - it can truly be observed as a "song" in it's first fifth or so only, the vast majority of it's ten minute duration is dedicated to a simple rhythm that slowly evolves, percussion (over perfectly muted, insatiable notes) is allowed to spread it's wings for just moments before the entire exercise is called off. It's mesmerizing and beautiful.
...and besides: "There is always time", as "Rivers" points out later on.
Quite honesty, while it's perhaps a bit difficult to talk about what this band is doing without running the risk of making their work sound redundant or even boring, in all actuality, it's incredibly accessible and has it's doors appropriately open towards any listener's ear. I feel like there is no situation where their music would not be fitting, at least on some level. I can only hope that individuals are willing to give "Little Joy" the room which it needs to fully sprawl, so that it can be enjoyed and allowed to work it's way through the thoughts and moods of any given day, and granted permission to soundtrack the replay: laying down, back to the carpeted floor, perhaps on a long drive between San Luis Obispo and Long Beach, alone and with much on the mind, or maybe, if fate would have it: once again in a crowded, smelly, living room, in Tempe, AZ.
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