I’ve just watched The Brutalist right before listening to this, and in many ways it’s perfect training. It’s long, largely unwelcoming, and no one except the people who wrote it have a clue what it’s about.
The thing is, if I’m going to be baffled and confused, then I’d rather Between The Buried And Me did it.
About the only thing that’s certain in these 10 pieces of music (you can call them “songs” if you want to, but I’m not sure they are) on The Blue Nowhere are the titles.
Take the first one, “Things We Tell Ourselves In The Dark.” It has a passage that’s equal parts 80s keyboards, yacht rock, and death metal vocals—all at the same time. Oh, and that’s after it’s gone all jazz at the start.
The Blue Nowhere—their first album in four years—is, even by the mad standards of BTBAM, a wild ride. “God Terror” occupies a similar territory to Godflesh. It’s harsh and nasty, rubbing salt in the wounds with a barbed-wire chaser. There’s nothing approaching melody or tune. But somehow the thing is irresistible. And I don’t know why.
I accept this is a problem when it comes to reviewing a record, as it’s sort of incumbent on me to explain it, but honestly—if you can explain “Absent Thereafter” (which sounds like each of the band is playing a different song while Tommy Rogers growls), then you’re better than me. Of course, he then stops growling, commences singing, while Paul Waggoner starts playing a solo John Petrucci would kill for, and you’re left scratching your head. Meanwhile, BTBAM turn into ZZ Top. This is not a joke. And I’ve no idea why any of it happens.
“Pause” is both unsettling and ambient at once, passing as stripped down, while “Door #3x” might carry a nightmarish vision, but it does have a hook. “Sometimes the world moves on,” sings Rogers. That’s fine. It won’t keep up. Oh, and there’s Spanish guitar. I’ve given up asking why.
A bit like the aforementioned The Brutalist, there’s an interlude in the shape of “Mirador Uncoil.” That’s only because the chaos really gets particularly chaotic on “Psychomantuem”—as impenetrable a thing as there’s ever been. No one else would imagine it, let alone make it happen.
There’s a rock ‘n’ roll riff at the start of “Slow Paranoia,” and there’s a grandiosity here, almost operatic, with a section that sounds like it belongs in a musical. It doesn’t last. It’s replaced by icy blastbeats.
The title track starts like a film soundtrack being scored by Joe Satriani, before journeying into indie music. The gentler end to things continues with the lovely, calm opening of “Beautifully Human.” And if the waters get choppier, it surely only underlines the band’s skill, because you can only marvel at their ability to play music this complex. It even ends with a nod to the beginning, carrying a Steven Wilson type air.
If “pop” means “popular,” then that’s not something Between The Buried And Me care about. You can’t even call it uneasy listening, because the fact is, everyone will hear different things.
It is nonetheless utterly compelling, and whether you mark it 1/10 or 10/10, The Blue Nowhere will elicit something from you. It can’t fail to.
Rating: 8/10
