Lil Ugly Mane - Volcanic Bird Enemy & The Voiced Concern

RAINBOW LIGHTS AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Screw the formalities, I'm going to be candid. This is everything I could ever want in an album. Enough of the conjecture, the summarizing, the critiquing. Today, I am a fan. A fan of music, of art, of personal achievement. Volcanic Bird Enemy & The Voiced Concern is a masterpiece. A fully-realized wonderland conjured from hitting rock bottom. Head on bedrock, split open, imagining flashes of a life that could've been. Summoned from the darkness, overcome with delirium, a stupor of excess, like light engulfing your cornea, moments before being consumed by a black hole. Without the context of Lil Ugly Mane's past in tow, one would be remiss in thinking this was all fluff. A caricature of fantasia, exacerbated by idealism like a hippie succumbed to medicinal remedies. Yet four years ago, on Flick Your Tongue, he was Bedwetter, strapped to a gurney, reliving childhood tragedies brought out by a therapist-turned-exorcist. Five, a suicidal savant, on Oblivion Access, impaled by fury on one side, Noise on the other, balanced on a fine wire just waiting to drop. Nine, a vengeful spirit from the crypt, on Mista Thug Isolation, invoking Memphis Rap's bleakest depths of braggadocio, phased by nothing, confiding to no one. Here, he has been saved.

There's a reason why the crudely-drawn stick figure family, with the sun gazing above in blotched crayon yellow, red house boxed to the right, solicits a greater reaction when one's bleak reality sets in. A privileged child, content and bored, scribbling on fine paper? Means nothing. Coarse and fitful, on the concrete wall of a shelter? For that child, it means the world. For you, the viewer, emotional resonance embeds within the soul. Therefore it is understood that context is imperative in art, a philosophy that warps not just with the viewers' condition, but the creator's as well. This is why Volcanic Bird Enemy triumphs; Travis Miller's past has been known. The dark, angry, depressive bottom. The present paints in lighter tones. Offset by an array of rainbows, multi-dimensional and variegated, representing a mental state rid of penitence, suppressed by optimism and the shredding of repentance. "I wait for panic to subside / Scrape the tarnish from my mind," he croons on closer 'Porcelain Slightly' as a wail of nostalgic-rich 2000's Alternative Rock scrambles for certainty around elastic toy squeaks, like an adult traversing the LEGO minefield of their childhood bedroom. Throughout these 58 minutes, Miller rethinks his acrimony with himself, the world, and those he's forced to share it with. The disdain comes not in the form of panicked yelps or cries for help, but rather ripened acknowledgment over the need - nay want - to move forward. Suffice to say, Volcanic Bird Enemy's a breath of fresh air.

Musically, it's something even greater. It's Saturday morning cartoons, skater apathy, temperamental escapism, a friend wiping away tears, cannonballs in the pool, surrealist paintings, the haze from a smoke sesh, expressive outfits, cockamamy school mascots, mornings with your thoughts, parties for one, dark humor, montages of mayhem, warm hugs, carousels lit on fairgrounds, ghosted flings, amnesic existentialism, medication in moderation, encounters aimed at building the self. It's that last one that strings them all together, like a paper clip necklace made by an adolescent crush. In spite of the lunacy ('With Iron & Bleach & Accidents') or sobriety ('VPN'), soldering a respected identity to a once-lost soul is paramount to Lil Ugly Mane's transformation towards acceptance. It's why the first thing we hear is "who are you?" repeated ad-nauseam on the opener 'Bird Enemy Car,' as a flourish of sentimental instrumentation loops along with it. Transported to a mercurial world, seeking one's own character.

All this combines to create a body worth living for and an environment worth existing in. Volcanic Bird Enemy's reverie is unlike anything I've heard before. For the sonic element, Coin Locker Kid comes close, but has always preferred experimentation over accessibility. And sure, there's traces of Eels ('Human Fly') and TV Girl ('Into A Life'), George Clanton ('Headboard') and even Mac Miller ('Cold In Here'), but the surrealist nature that effuses from every crevice - like Alice In Wonderland for nihilistic millennials - swells through splashy orchestration and prickly tinge. Take the delicate 'Hostage Master,' where playful percussion tatters unknowingly around a consistent, moribund piano key, all the while Lil Ugly Mane drudges onwards - lugubrious and melancholy - as a tenable relationship slips from his grasp ("Beauty makes me freeze and turn away / Your mindset, quicksand"). Yoni Wolf comes to mind in instances like these. However, elsewhere, abated anthems soar with reckless, Grunge guitars on standouts 'Headboard' and 'Porcelain Slightly,' finding wretched moments of relapse to reimagine through rose-tinted glasses. These two are compositional marvels, with irresistible vocals, melodies, lyrics, you name it. Throw 'Benadryl Submarine' into the mix as well, prospering less in the slathered Noise Pop of Jesus & The Mary Chain as those two did, and more in docile New Romantic akin to Depeche Mode with its budgeted Christmas synthesizers and starry night desires.

But that's not all, for Volcanic Bird Enemy's preeminence exists not because of it's well-placed headliners, but rather the boundless esotericism littered within the deep cuts. There's three in particular that transcend genre; 'With Iron & Bleach & Accidents,' 'Styrofoam,' and 'Cursor.' The former sounds like Yo Gabba Gabba with its castle-building of knickknacks, loopy and oblique like a toddler staring up at a mobile. Miller's somber fantasies ("People under dynamited buildings / Take a break from smoldering and smile") only exacerbates the bewilderment. 'Styrofoam' leaves you speechless, with a mad grin transposed across the face. Melodic and metaphorical, this Dixieland phantasm - yes, I said Dixieland - once again finds Miller grappling with depression whilst in the midst of hysteria. "I feel tired and I think I'm done with trying / If everything was styrofoam, I wouldn't be alive" he croons, numbed to the evanescent carnival procession tangoing behind him. It's a more extreme vision than the jarring combination of Noise, Instrumental Hip-Hop, and Spirituals on 'Leonard's Lake.' Lastly, 'Cursor's' amateur Lo-Fi Indie - dare I say bordering on hollowed out Twee Pop - enchants with a flourish of summertime samples and quirky, Pooh Bear-plodding via a withered clown horn. These are not exaggerations; that's exactly how Volcanic Bird Enemy sounds at times. 'Beach Harness' grooves with clashing Jazz percussion like a Quasimodo beat, 'Clapping Seal' descends into fairytale dolor, 'Broken Ladder' injects elemental EBM into Miller's distress, like Patricia Taxxon would.

It's a wonderland of sound, a gift that keeps on giving. Apart from a minor, five-minute downtick in 'Swell' and 'Stock Car,' there isn't a single humdrum moment on Volcanic Bird Enemy. At 58 minutes it feels endless, as all LSD trips do when headlong into the mania. When 'Porcelain Slightly' crackles to a close all I want to do is load up 'Bird Enemy Car' again. It never ends, this quest for satisfaction. Rued by life's pitfalls, Lil Ugly Mane's found solace in the effort to overcome. Through coerced reprieve and forced optimism.