Blonde Redhead - '23' (4AD) Released 16/04/07

When a band is anointed as the favourites of Sonic Youth, it would probably be fair to assume that the act in question is one for whom music isn’t a mere distraction from the simple pleasures of groupies and hedonism, but a malleable and rewarding artform capable of changing lives or, at the very least, earning a slot at ATP. Blonde Redhead have bee ploughing this latter furrow for nearly fifteen years now, albeit from the sidelines as the likes of Arcade Fire and fellow 4AD-ers TV On The Radio, bands with similar, emotionally articulate aesthetics, have been catapulted to commercial garlands.

‘23’ begins with its title-track, an amazing five minutes of dark propulsive rhythm and high-pitched disarmingly striking vocals that salutes the wonder of change. The sense of progression, both audibly and thematically, is established from the start (this is after all a band whose last album, ‘Misery Is A Butterfly’, acted as an exorcism of sorts after frontwoman Kazu Makino was trampled by a horse and nearly killed), as is the record’s richness and breadth. Remember the first time you heard Joanna Newsom’s ‘Ys’? Well this is (kind of) like that; an album so dense with sound that to map it all would be as daunting a task as attempting to review the latest Melanie C single without wishing death on all those involved (end of rant).

So the faintly calypso drum track buried deep in the mix of ‘Dr.Strangeluv’ would be the basis of many band’s entire songs, while listen closely to ‘The Dress’ and you hear a ghostly ambience that would be terrifying were it not so empty. For a band who stuck so firmly to the “art-rock” template, ‘23’ is also remarkably hard to categorize. There are moments, like the Motown-inspired vocals of ‘Silently’, or the way ‘Publisher’ could have stepped off the latest, also masterful, Of Montreal record (while My Bloody Valentine are a recognisable key influence throughout), but for the most part Blonde Redhead sound like their own band, trapped inside their own hermetically-sealed unintelligible world, something that only adds to the appeal of ‘23’. By the time ‘My Impure Hair’ fades in a burst of arrhythmic electronica that sounds like someone’s final heartbeats, the record will already have cast its’ wistful, astounding spell.

Where one is tempted to put, for example, ‘Neon Bible’ aside and not listen to it again for the next ten years, lest the fairy tale-like magic fade, ‘23’ is a record that demands to be heard again and again, each repeated play unraveling the delicate tapestry of guitar and Makino’s haunting voice, slowly revealing it to be a near-classic of atmosphere and tension. Remember it took Sonic Youth five albums before the world sat up and really took notice. If ‘23’ isn’t the album to break Blonde Redhead then it’ll be the next one. Or the one after that. By then they should be everyone’s favourite band.