Liars

Drum's Not Dead

Tales of the Unexpected (Deleted Scenes) Part One:

Imagine, if you will, a pub. It is a Saturday evening. Steve, Katy and Keith are sitting at a table, unfazed by the crowds of revelers dressed in police uniform and angel wings; the occasional displays of rear and frontal nudity and the frequent slippage between the two of these states. They are, after all, regulars here. A group of men is having a collective word with the doorman. They are being ejected for being loud and lairy and drunk, and they are not pleased in the slightest. But Steve and Keith and Katy have seen this before, more than once. What draws the eye is not the act of ejection, but the ejectees are all deaf. Their loud speech is the loud speech of deafness and their aggressive gesticulation is drink-slurred sign language. A car crash of misunderstanding and crossed wires, it is mesmerizing. Katy speaks: "I know it's awful, but you just can't look away, can you?"

Liars have that effect on me. From the opening bars of ‘Be Quiet Mt. Heart Attack' through to the pastoral psyche-out of ‘The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack', you don't quite know what you're listening to, but you can't stop listening. You're not even sure if you like it, but you can't get away. Like smelling your own shit or something. The only instrument used through out these 12 tracks is the drum-kit layered through waves of distortion, delay and phaser. Offset against this, you have the occasional stab/drone of synth, skeletal guitars, occasional bumps of bass guitar and the more frequent interjections of resident freak-box Angus Andrews (more of him in episode Two). Rhythm never lasts long, and almost feels like a-rhythm. Elegiac moments are countered by full freak-outs; every second of lovely music countered by a-lovely a-musical moments. None of it fits right, but it works, especially on the fully creepy ‘The Wrong Coat for You'.

Tales of the Unexpected (Deleted Scenes) Part Two:

Imagine Chicago. 2003. The L-Train between Arlington and the City Centre. A nervous crowd gathers around a man, most likely a hobo. His faced pressed up against the window of the doors of the carriage; he is dancing to his own music. And muttering to himself. So as his face pushes up the glass leaving slimy trails, his ass grinds out into thin air, occasionally almost connecting with one of the spectators. The gentlemen do not like it, the ladies even less so. Eventually one man stands, and makes it clear that no one appreciates the performance. The hobo turns to face his opponent, in the process dropping his trousers and stares into the eyes of Gallahad. The L stops, doors open, and Keith, Sarah and the rest of their ex-pat community swarm onto the platform. And safety.

Angus Andrews is a man who frightens me. His vocals on the album consist mainly of ambiguous half-threat and sinister promises, such on ‘It Fit When I was A Kid' where he assures that "We will leave you in the woods/ And tell your friends you slipped." As much as he sounds as if he's having a great time, he's dancing to his own beat and smearing his juice all over the window. More often than not, it makes no sense, but it doesn't sound right ("Milky Hair/ We could do it under water" ‘To Hold You Drum'). Even when the music itself lends to the more euphoric, the vocal, ranging from slur to falsetto, leaving you feeling distinctly uneasy such as on ‘Let's Not Wrestle'.

Tales of the Unexpected (Deleted Scenes) Part Three:

Based on past form, Drum's Not Dead should have been a fucking mess. Debut album They Threw us All in a Trench... was pretty derivative dance-punk, whilst They Were Wrong... sounded like nothing else on earth that counted as music. It hits a happy medium by not quite sounding like anything you know, but enough like it to allow you in. Whilst there are moments that recall No Wave pin-ups like James Chance and Glenn Branca, there aren't enough to say Liars sound like them. Ditto with Aphex Twin or My Bloody Valentine. Familiar but unfamiliar. Musical but not. Scary but fully hypnotic. I'm tempted to say that Liars have made the aural equivalent of catching a glimpse of someone eating shit in the background of Eastenders. But I'll go for the obvious pun on the title of the album, as you'd expect. Drum's definitely not dead.

Keith Patterson

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