[New post] Album Review: Noise Floor Delirium – Life Street Closed
Geoff Wilbur posted: " Album Review of Noise Floor Delirium: Life Street Closed Noise Floor Delirium is a Chris Gleason side project. Of course, I've reviewed Chris' band Los Goutos at the Blog. I've not (yet) reviewed Chris' other band, the Sado-Domestics. And this, of " Geoff Wilbur's Music Blog
Noise Floor Delirium is a Chris Gleason side project. Of course, I've reviewed Chris' band Los Goutos at the Blog. I've not (yet) reviewed Chris' other band, the Sado-Domestics. And this, of course, is a Noise Floor Delirium review. On Noise Floor Delirium, Chris is joined by Jimmy Ryan (mandolin) for "Coming Apart" and by Lucy Martinez (vocals) for "Luck Comes Last" but is otherwise responsible for all of the music, lyrics, instruments, vocals, engineering, mixing, and production on Life Street Closed.
Of course, Chris' bands' music is never simply straightforward, so why would you expect any differently from this project? I'll begin the review with a 50,000-foot overview of the album: It's an engaging, intriguing collection of offbeat, grainy-lensed, slightly funhouse-mirrored Americana. And, though I can't flesh out all of the details of a storyline – this isn't helped by the fact that the vocals are so embedded into the soundscape that I forget to pay attention to them while enjoying the music – Life Street Closed seems to be a concept album along the lines of Pink Floyd's The Wall, but without the accompanying film, which might be more related vignettes than a storyline but would still be worth watching. The album is clearly a well-crafted labor of love for Gleason, a project that earned Noise Floor Delirium a New England Music Awards nomination for Americana Act of the Year.
The album kicks off with an ominously Deliverance-esque "Matilda Stomp (New Chemirocha Blues)," with its banjo-ey twang and heavy stomping beat. It's also exceedingly memorable, one of the songs on this disc that'll stay with you.
The creepy-music factor gets amped up even more on the next track, "This House Isn't Haunted Anymore," which is another you'll find stuck in your head for days. Thanks to the foreboding music, I don't believe the song title. This song is a slower, quieter creep with vocals that are spoken-sung so quietly you'll find yourself leaning in to hear them.
"Mendacious Alibi," next, slips into a cool lo-fi blues vibe, with a steady rhythm that, perhaps subconsciously spurred by the "end of the road" lyric, suggests a slow-moving highway traveling song. I picture the road dark and wet, though that visual may simply harken back to the picture on the album cover. As a nifty bonus, I think I hear a little slow-jamming Tom Petty in the song's guitar and pace, too.
"Marsh Marigolds" seems to rise from the ashes, with the music mimicking the sun coming out following a rainstorm – this despite, or perhaps because of, lyrics like "all of our demons are near" and "hell is empty this year." My first inclination was that this song had some raw Beatles-ish elements, and it does, but it will mostly give you big-time Pink Floyd vibes.
"Coming Apart" follows, a more light-touch, country-styled Americana number, driven by finger-picking, a slightly hillbilly tempo, and some light blues-rocking distorted guitar in key spots for emphasis.
"Back-Talking" continues the bluesy vibe but returns to the album's haunting motif. It's a great transition song for the album, and though its role in this collection is as a progressive album track that deftly moves the record forward and includes some neat musicianship, you'll absolutely find yourself drawn into the lyric "Not talking smack, just talking back."
After "Back-Talking" cleanses the musical palate, the subsequent "Bottom of the Sea" reveals an eerie, Americana tumbleweed vibe, again recalling The Wall or some of Bowie's spacier work. "Nine-Tailed Fox" paints a similar musical color but with a slightly different rhythmic brush atop a more motivated beat.
The disc ends with "Luck Comes Last," which feels like the conclusion of a story. Or of an album. It's a slow-paced song, similar to "Marsh Marigolds" or "Bottom of the Sea," with a musical slow-build that suggests the clouds are opening once again after the storm has passed.
With so much stylistic variance, you'd think this album might lack cohesion, but there's a familiar sonic landscape underpinning every track, resulting in a sound that provides quick identification of each song as part of this particular Noise Floor Delirium collection.
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