Reign of Terror - Sleigh Bells

Sleigh Bells won me over. When my hipster-er-than-thou friends recommended their debut Treats to me, I was cautious – so cautious, in fact, that I ignored them, passed them off as Pitchfork shit and moved on. However, upon my first listen of the album a few months after its release, I was proven wrong within five seconds: the glorious, deafening opening to Tell ‘Em set the tone for the loudest, brashest and frankly best album of 2010. Vocalist Alison Krauss and guitarist Derek E. Miller’s latest effort is Reign of Terror, seemingly a departure from the devastating noise-pop of their debut – Miller’s father was killed in a motorcycle accident during the recording of Treats, while his mother’s (successful) battle with cancer throughout the album’s subsequent tour meant the writing and recording of Reign of Terror has acted as a catharsis for the band’s founding member. This hints at a different tone and style to their full-throttle debut, and when combined with Krauss’s first input into the song-writing element of Sleigh Bells (Treats was written before she joined the band), makes Reign of Terror the most hotly-anticipated release of 2012.

Launching into True Shred Guitar, we get pretty much exactly what the tin offers: guitars from another planet. As a whole, the record is a lot more guitar-driven than Treats, but True Shred Guitar takes that to another level – and it is wonderful. This power shift away from samples and towards guitars means the album takes on a less party-ready feel than their debut, something that was to be expected given its more serious undertones. Far from being sombre, however, the themes of suicide in Born to Lose, references to motorcycles in Leader of the Pack, and morbid song titling (D.O.A, Road to Hell, End of the Line) are contrasted with the positivity of Comeback Kid and the upbeat Demons to provide a brilliantly balanced record. The majority of Krauss’ vocal work on the album acts as a rallying cry, inspiring fight in her bandmate through his difficulties, adding to the cathartic feel of Reign of Terror: the dynamic of Krauss and Miller appears incapable of doing wrong, seemingly producing an album of unerring quality as a mere by-product of their friendship during a tough period.

If there were any area of the album to come in for criticism, it would be the ending: Never Say Die and D.O.A just don’t hit as hard as the earlier tracks. Without a Rill Rill to provide a breather, Reign of Terror can feel a little like a relentless assault, and these two tracks can feel like the tailing off of the record's energy. It’s the most minor of faults, however, and the only blemish in an otherwise flawless copybook. The shimmering, crushing guitars, the loud-quiet dynamic of the vocals, and a more refined use of samples and pedals have resulted in a pulsating, soaring ride of a record with more depth than their first offering – a devastating combination.

As far as notoriously tricky sophomore records go, Reign of Terror is up there with the best. The charm of early Sleigh Bells was that their sound was totally new and completely fresh, and the fact they have kept hold of that originality whilst making huge leaps forward in terms of song-writing, production and lyrics show real artistic merit. Reign of Terror will surely mark the band’s surge to the popular acclaim of Crystal Castles and the like. But, with their second top-class release under their belts and the most captivating live show on the circuit, the sky isn’t even close to Sleigh Bells’ limit.

I Am Gemini - Cursive

It’s been a long three years since Saddle Creek favourites Cursive released Mama, I’m Swollen, and despite a couple of decent solo albums from front man Tim Kasher, it seems like the time is just about right for another effort from his most successful venture. Step forward I Am Gemini, Cursive’s sixth album, complete with an intriguing press release detailing, in gratuitously wordy detail, the album’s story: evil twins, a struggle for the soul, and most interestingly, ‘the first time Kasher wrote album lyrics in a linear fashion’. Intriguing.

Almost a decade on from The Ugly Organ, the band’s finest achievement to date and one of the greatest rock records ever, Cursive appear to be channelling the spirit of their opus through I Am Gemini. It's not as successful as you might think. Sure, all the trademarks are there – the discussion of carving knives in the haunting ending of Warmer Warmer is instantly evocative of The Butcher’s Knife, and Kasher just can’t keep away from the organ imagery used so prominently throughout the band’s back catalogue – but something seems to be lacking. The recycled imagery and a return to a heavy, crashing musical style means the record harks back to the roaring glory of Domestica, but the band can’t seem to shake the dip in form that has epitomised their more recent efforts.

Aside from the baffling inclusion of The Cat and Mouse, one of the weakest tracks on any Cursive release I’ve heard, it’s difficult to place exactly where the record is going wrong. Lyrically the album is strong, but Kasher’s radical writing technique isn’t convincing – it provides a cohesive narrative across the record, undoubtedly, but this detracts from the storytelling within each individual song that characterised Cursive so distinctly in the past. The story itself is also lacking: where Cursive records usually plant you right in the middle of a scene that could easily be happening next door, I Am Gemini fails to portray a convincing, personal scene. The most poignant lyric on the record, Hello Skeleton’s “History can be so strangling,” appears to say more about the lack of progression in the band itself than it does about Kasher’s metaphorical twins. Musically, however, the album is excellent: it encompasses the whole range of the band’s talents, resulting in a mixture of jagged, stop-start rock like Wowowow and swelling, sedate tracks like Eulogy for No Name. Perhaps an over-arching musical theme is what I Am Gemini is missing.

As easy as it is to criticise I Am Gemini as unoriginal, lacklustre, or missing that certain spark that made Cursive so brilliant in the era of Domestica and The Ugly Organ, the fact remains that this is a solid album. Discount the band’s triumphant past and this is a strong album with a wealth of musical variety and a truckload of lyrical imagery: unfortunately, we’ve seen the whole range of styles from Cursive before, and this is what drags the record down. When Kasher mutters “I’ve done deeds I can never repeat” in Twin Dragon/Hello Skeleton, it feels like an damning (but accurate) self-assessment of a band aware they are struggling to hit the heights of their illustrious back catalogue.