Dirty Beaches - Badlands Review

WALTZING WITH A GHOST BY CANDLELIGHT

Badlands has been on my radar for what seemed like years. Whether it was Alex Hungtai's unpredictable genre excursions, the numerous recommendations from Hypnagogic Pop dives, or even his team-up with my beloved Lo-Fi darlings Tonstartssbandht on 2013's God Speed, Mans!, it was always there waiting - and wanting - to be heard. At 27 minutes, what excuse could one have? Interesting, that much was certain. Sure enough, Dirty Beaches' mystified bedroom aesthetic wafts with a pungent aroma, like a brothel in the seedy underbelly of Taipei; Hungtai's birthplace. In this regard, Badlands succeeds, providing a rich tapestry of opaque sensations using monochromatic filters. However, the segmented coherency and clear-cut standouts make Badlands a project that's more conceptual than categorical.

What are these segments I'm referring to? Beginning, middle, and end, as all things were. The first three tracks rifle by on a ramshackle train, inspired heavily by Suicide's style of Minimal Synth. Palpitating and steadfast, these rhythm-rich templates find Hungtai anxious and hollering like a young Alan Vega. Their skeletal formation and barebones lyrics struggle to provide purpose though, as I'm drawn to the grossly under-appreciated Rockabilly record Dixie Crystals by Trance Farmers for comparisons. You want the first three tracks but better? Listen to that record. The middling section is where Badlands shines, especially in the maudlin repose of 'True Blue' and 'Lord Knows Best.' 'A Hundred Highways' works well enough, but only because it's a ripping sample of Les Rallizes Denudes fantastically-shifty 'Night Of The Assassins.' The former two though, their Doo-Wop lachrymose works wonders in the field of Lo-Fi. Like a love weeping from the other side of the wall, playing their grandparents unkempt vinyls on loop.

Then 'Black Nylon' and 'Hotel' go on to ruin any momentum through a siphoned dirge. Dark Ambient in some sense, Tape Music by proxy, these instrumental affairs stand in stark contrast to Dirty Beaches' divulged sentimentality. Their bleak and despondent, especially 'Hotel,' which honestly draws comparisons to The Caretaker's Everywhere At The End Of Time series. When you put these three sections together you're left scratching your head. Beyond the Lo-Fi aesthetic, these moods and patterns and qualities all vary with questionable liberties. In that sense, Badlands is a strange album. Not the bled Hypnagogic Pop as one would expect going in. That being said, I don't regret it. For 'True Blue' and 'Lord Knows Best' are marvels at poignant minimalism.