#2 Revolver, #11 Decibel, #1 SPIN, #13 PopMatters, #1 Stereogum, #2 Rock-A-Rolla, #4 MetalSucks, #3 MetalSucks musicians, #18 Obelisk, #1 Pitchfork, #17 Metal Hammer, #8 Terrorizer, #19 Pazz & Jop
bum two from this 2010-formed San Fran crew, inked to Jacob Bannon’s Deathwish imprint, has already set itself ahead of the 2013 competition.At the time of writing, ‘Sunbather’ has a Metacritic average score of 97 out of 100. If the year ended, now, it’d be the review-aggregator’s very best album of 2013, regardless of genre, several places ahead of celebrated records from The National, Daft Punk and Boards Of Canada.
So why is it that, until very recently, many in the Clash office had never heard of Deafheaven, let alone actually listened to the five-piece?
The Deathwish association is a clue: this is metal, and of a radar-bypassing variety too, the kind unlikely to ever connect with a mainstream chasing whatever’s hot or not in the Right Now to bump up web traffic.
Except, the reviews – those to have come before this one, and those that will inevitably follow it, as more are switched onto ‘Sunbather’ – have made these seven tracks a mainstream-piquing collection. At least in the sense that this extraordinary record’s makers find themselves in the position of now connecting to an audience that stretches beyond any singular, genre-specific listenership.
Wikipedia will tell you that Deafheaven operate in post-metal circles, exploring shoegaze and black metal styles, too. But the beauty – the ugly, violent, caressing, tumultuous wonder – of this set is that it simply doesn’t conform to any existing pigeonhole.
It’s loud. It can be extremely loud. Its vocals are screamed, almost wordless of delivery; yet they convey an undeniable emotion. The drums sound as if a thousand steeds are racing across the fiery planes of Hell, while above the crust splits to reveal an endless blue-blackness punctured by flaming stars.
This is an album defined by abstracts. Its constituents, broken down, do not add up to anything revolutionary. Vocalist George Clarke is resolutely of metal pedigree, his performances comparable with those of the aforementioned Converge frontman Bannon. (Naturally, these are the LP’s most-divisive element.) The music fluctuates between warm passages of post-rock-y introspection and all-out power dynamics, like Isis with the intensity ramped up past 11. Yet the assembly proves so electrifying that stepping away from a full play leaves one with the shakes.
‘Dream House’ sets an impressive precedent: nine minutes of roaring disharmony, somehow underpinned by a melodic consistency that keeps the piece from collapsing into itself. The title-cut is even more impressive: such does it turn and churn that it spits the listener out sick-giddy at the end of a no-punches-pulled 10 minutes.
‘Sunbather’ is arranged in a long song, short piece, long song order – the briefer pieces operating as bridges between the main attractions, the lengthiest of which is the opus-within-itself ‘Vertigo’, a full 14 minutes of rising to the highest heights before suicide-diving into a mountaintop.
But the relatively compact arrangements aren’t to be overlooked for the more overt drama surrounding them: ‘Windows’ is a beautiful drone accompanied by Bible readings, which feel right at home with the pervading post-apocalyptic vibes; and ‘Irresistible’ is just that, a chiming, Mogwai-like aside that sees its beauty rendered thrice over by juxtaposition with the raging fury foreshadowing it.
‘Sunbather’ has been cited as this year’s take on Swans’ masterful ‘The Seer’ (Clash review) – a heavy record for those who don’t usually get into heavy records. But it’s more than that. It’s a new blueprint, an album that takes metal into previously unexplored regions where raw heart and broken knuckles collide; where carnage plays out under heavenly vistas the mind’s eye paints in collaboration with the evolving epics contained herein.
It’s a bit bloody brilliant. A record everyone with half an experimental ear should experience, even if they run from it, screaming. So add another positive critique to the Metascore and let’s all slow-motion slam-dance in tears of togetherness. - Mike Diver, CLASH, http://www.clashmusic.com/reviews/deafheaven-sunbather
The pre-release buzz and acclaim surrounding Sunbather, the sophomore LP by the Bay Area “post-black metal” outfit Deafheaven, is surprising. Not because of the aesthetic merits of the album itself—put mildly, it’s as good, if not better, than everyone is saying it is—but because in its construction, it’s set to incite vitriol in the two camps it appeals to. On one end, there are those who have stuck around this long because of Deafheaven’s associations with the West Coast black metal scene, whose stylings are in full form on the band’s impressive 2011 debut Roads to Judah. Though there are plenty of heavy riffs and betwitched screams a la early ‘90s Norway, there’s plenty on Sunbather that’s bound to piss off those wishing to tag this group as black metal. The LP’s sleeve art is a striking, gorgeous pink, far from the imperceptible black-on-white band name decals that black metal is so famous for. Soft instrumental passages like “Irresistible” recall Explosions in the Sky, whose placid guitar technique (see the blueprint established by The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place) is not privy to harsh tremolo picking. Meanwhile, on the other end, there are those who are drawn to this album for its take on shoegaze and post-rock, i.e. the avid readers of indie e-zines. For all the things they might find appealing, they probably won’t be keen on George Clarke’s vocals, which never fall below a piercing screech.
Fortunately, as genres continue to meld and mold into each other, even ones previously thought irreconcilable, purists on either end will continue to lose relevance. This has proven to be especially the case for those in the black metal scene—for evidence of this, look to Burzum’s output over the past several years and the critical lambasting that followed. And, in the end, part of what makes Sunbather feel so definitive is how it pre-emptively cuts through this type of petty argumentation and asserts itself. Genre isn’t a preoccupation here. Talking about the album “as black metal” or “as post-rock”, while helpful to some extent, detracts from the fact that it isn’t laying down any new groundwork or upending any genre formulas. Sunbather in large part picks up where Souvenirs d’un autre monde and even 777—Cosmophy left off. But for all of the ways in which Deafheaven treads through old ground here, it’s made a work that both ousts Roads to Judah in overall excellence and further clarifies the uniqueness of its voice. Unlike the philosophically confrontational approach of Liturgy—who, for some strange reason, Deafheaven is often lumped together with—the musicians here are only concerned with sounding like what they want to sound like. The result is an unpretentious, lush, and emotionally devastating album that would be an impressive feat for anyone, let alone a group only on its second LP.
While Roads to Judah was an impressive point of entry for the band, with Sunbather the roughness present in the former has been ironed out and enhanced. Sharp, distinct guitar lines reminiscent of Mogwai have replaced the emphasis on texture on the debut, which drew inspiration from the layered approach of My Bloody Valentine. This undoubtedly was in part caused by the band’s cover of Mogwai’s “Punk Rock” and “Cody” for its split with fellow Bay Area metallers Bosse-de-Nage. There, as the group does on this LP, the mood of the songs is much less drenched in washes of guitar. Riffs and melodies are given space to say what they need to say without worry of being crowded out. It’s definitely a nice coincidence that the influence of the legendary Scottish post-rockers has become more prevalent in Deafheaven’s music; as the guitar tones become relatively cleaner and well defined, all of the other facets of the music are enhanced.
Contrast is the main constant on Sunbather. The album is sequenced in a long/short track arrangement. Clarke’s screams are put against beautiful, immaculate music and arrangements. Sunlight casts a shadow as dark as the star is bright. In a list like this, these choices seem easy enough, but when put all together into the hour-long opus that this record is, each contrast adds up to a resounding, crushing sound. As powerful a track as opener “Dream House” is, it’s even more powerful when followed by the elated optimism of “Irresistible”. The triumphant, 11-minute closer “The Pecan Tree”, while a harrowing thing in its own right, sinks its claws even deeper when led in with “Windows”, which juxtaposes a sample of a street preacher and a recording of guitarist Kerry McCoy purchasing drugs to a haunting effect. Even the title of the LP itself is a thing of duality; while most would not picture someone trying to tan as malicious, Deafheaven foresees the burn produced by the chipper sunlight. “I cried against an ocean of light,” Clarke screams, lamenting the false beauty of the titular figure.
Instrumentally, Sunbather is unassailable. McCoy’s guitar playing spans a broad spectrum of tones. The newest addition to the band, drummer Daniel Tracy, knows just when to stop the blastbeating and let the percussion chill out, a key skill necessary to maintain the ebb and flow that sustains these songs. But the central voice here is Clarke, whose lyrics and presence dominate the core of the music. His power here is at once ironic; whereas McCoy’s guitar tones span a broad tonal and emotional range, Clarke does nothing but scream. Unlike genre luminaries Alcest—whose frontman Neige appears here to give some spoken word beauty to “Please Remember”—there are no clean vocals to counterweigh the harsh passages. In terms of dynamics, Clarke is frequently overpowered by the music that backs him. Yet even in that push and pull, he marvelously captures the anguish that comes when flying too close to the sun, one of the core themes of the record. In final stanza of “Dream House”, where the album’s music is at its most epic, Clarke bellows a verbatim passage taken from a text message with a woman he was in love with:
“I’m dying.”
—“Is it blissful?”
“It’s like a dream.”
—“I want to dream.”
Even more soul-piercing are the last lines of “The Pecan Tree”, where Clarke lays the demons of his relationship with his father out in the open: “I am my father’s son / I am no one / I cannot love / It is in my blood.” The screams here aren’t just a means of expressing anguish; they also provide something like anonymity for a man who is putting bare some incredibly personal details about himself and his family. Moreover, Clarke knows exactly when to come in with the music; well over half of the album is instrumental, which makes his appearances in the songs like a perfectly portioned spice.
When I spoke with Clarke a few days before the record’s release, he said of its tone, “I think it’s all-encompassing; it’s both our darkest and our lightest work.” He couldn’t have summarized it any better. Sunbather really is the sound of a band that wants it all. Deafheaven takes heaviness and melodiousness hand in hand. It takes the sunlight and marries it to its corresponding darkness. It takes the West Coast black metal scene and draws it even closer to the hipsterdom that sends many metal fans into a frenzy. All of these dichotomies were already becoming less and less bifurcated prior to Sunbather‘s release, but Deafheaven has made a uniquely compelling case that these changes should be happening faster. It’s not an easy goal; of the many qualities this record possesses, “acquired taste” is one of them. The contours of the ever-shifting music and the depth of Clarke’s lyrics take their time to sink in. But give it time; sometimes the best music demands a lot of its listeners. Call it black metal, call it “post-black” metal, call it “hipster metal”, call it whatever you want. But Deafheaven’s audacity and artistry are hard to deny, which is but one of many reasons why Sunbather is an essential listen, and one of 2013’s boldest works of art. - Brice Ezell, PopMatters, http://www.popmatters.com/review/172379-deafheaven-sunbather/