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Siberia:
Harm's Way
Harms Way is two albums at least: one an experimental, evocative follow-up to Damage and the other a mixed bag of brilliance and uninspired water-treading. Though art wins out, worthy and beautiful tracks far outnumbering the albums missteps, even among the best tracks here are some incompatible experiences, seemingly shoved onto the album willy-nilly. The only true constants here are the masterful musicianship and the oppressively-themed but wonderfully performed and incorporated lyrics by Randy Farmer. Harms Way is a gothic college-rock exploration of classic Americana narratives and subjects (the glorious Peter, ephemeral Vessel, and inspired cover of The Man In The Long Black Coat), telling stories with a rhythmic and strongly evocative edge, full of easy mid-90s guitar and self-indicting, mournful lyrics like I will not scream/Or overeat, on the refrain of album highlight Virus. Even the less interesting, somewhat formulaic Sleep and Sorry contain impressive choruses and repetitive, dreamy riffs that leave more than enough room for inventive percussion and production tricks. Only the regrettable opening track Lie Down deviates too terribly from the basic recipe: a jarringly low-res college bar tune, unimaginative and droning, it sounds cheap and hideously derivative, giving a distressingly incorrect impression of the lavish, rich songs in store. But Harms Way is also a return to, and muscular re-imagining of, the lush landscapes, danceable and well-integrated percussion/guitar, and evocative vocals of college-band favorites like Mazzy Star or Sneaker Pimps. Evoking night rides on dark country highways, ghostly love stories told at night in abandoned fields, and funerals held in snowy, bare farm communities: the feeling here is of the passion and complexity to be found among the wreckage and empty miles of the gothic America the Williamsburg, Brooklyn band seems to revere and delight in visiting. The vocals of Tight Wire are intimate and beautiful, complementing its solid and complex instrumentation, while the albums two best songs, Quicksand and Toronto, partake of apocalyptic, coldly angry and centrally American images and sounds of desolation. All in all, the mistakes are few, and even the less interesting songs here show promise for the future, and a love of the possibilities of sound. The new Siberia after an injury sustained by guitarist John Mitchell necessitated a few changes in method and sound is one that succeeds best when experimenting and luxuriating in the sampling and rhythmic dimensions of its labyrinths of guitar and mannered vocals: imagine a Cowboy Junkies ghost story, as produced by Skunk Anansie. Recommended.
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