Every so often, after immersing myself in cement floor rave anthems for several days non-stop (or, worse yet for disassociation with the rest of the world, the new Nick Cave record….::shudder::), I find myself yearning to return, sonically speaking, to the warm sounds in which I feel most comfortable-namely, that of washes of drone and eruptions, bursts, really, of feedback-and-sweat noise. The problem with seeking out noise, though, is that far too often what’s reaped from that harvest is that of, well, just noise. It’s easy to find songs with no structure, no real writing, just pounds upon pounds of meat-headed feedback.
That’s why I’m enamored, at the moment, with this Evangelista album, Hello, Voyager.
Evangelista is a sonic experiment based around the work of one singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist, Carla Bozulich, whose musical (and writing) credits are far too numerous to even begin to chronicle (holy hell, she was in Geraldine Fibbers? Really?), and supposedly it’s based around concepts tossed about on an album Bozulich released under her own name, titled Evangelista. Regardless of whether you’re still following or not, Hello, Voyager makes little-to-no sense in terms of the current musical climate-and that, in fact, is what makes it so welcome to my ears.
The closest comparison I dare fashion is that of Kristen Hersh’s 50 Ft Wave project, both in terms of Bozulich’s singing voice, which sounds more-than-a-little like Hersh’s warmed-sandpaper gravelthroat husk, and in terms of the massive walls of utter sound that are unleashed at a moment’s notice. Unlike Hersh’s band, though, Evangelista’s Hello, Voyager explores territory both lyrical and sonic that traverse alluring, comforting and terrifying, all within moments of one another. Bozulich is Sonic Youth and all of their various side projects, triggered by one flashing effects pad, onto an unsuspecting street passerby.
The most pop-sensible tuneful moment on Hello, Voyager, “Lucky Lucky Luck” has an acoustic-for-moments Bozulich playing the restrained, sexually hungry observer, ready to let her fingers do the walking. As the song unfolds, though, that Hersh comparison comes back, as she unhinges inch-by-inch.
Evangelista: Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space
After an initial drone, the entirety that is Evangelista completely unleashes. “Gotta Find Life!” Bozulich screams at one point in this, amidst a wail of electric feedback and a percussive drum backing that, somehow, manages to stay both slow and steady and conjure mental comparisons to some of Radiohead’s louder moments. This song is where the damn life is, and when it stops on a dime that’s made obvious.
