Black Midi - Cavalcade Album Review

 Harry Mcilroy

Black Midi - Cavalcade  

genre - art-rock, noise-rock, alternative, jazz fusion  

9/10

Black Midi are a (x) band hailing from London, England. You see the (x) I placed there instead of a genre? That’s because trying to pin down black midi’s new album, Cavalcade in a simple, non mastubatory genre title would be a complete waste of time. The most simple name I could come up with was “progressive jazz-fusion art-rock”, which in all honesty is even more embarrassing than simply calling it “alt-rock”. Every single damn review, think-piece and article I've read on this band refers to them as something completely disparate and confusing, so I like viewing them in a different light. I see bands like this under the banner of “post-streaming”. We now live in a time where streaming music has completely taken over how we consume and put out music. Even though the development of the internet itself started this revolution of near infinite choice, it was streaming that made listening to millions of albums and songs as easy as googling the weather. When incredibly talented young people (the members of black midi are on average 21 years old) grow up in this uber-saturated music landscape, a band like this will inevitably come out of it. A band in which naming influences becomes more of a flex than an accurate representation. 

I have also heard this band described as “post-brexit core”, which I think is both ridiculous and quite fitting. In the last couple of years the London burgeoning rock scene has morphed into something far more strange and exciting than it has been for decades. The success of bands like Black Country, New Road, Squid and Fontaines DC (just to name a few) seem to have taken the nation's deep rooted fear, anxiety and confusion and put it on wax. Simplicity doesn't cut it anymore, something deeper is needed to satisfy a generation of people stuck in transition. And on Cavalcade, depth is weaponised. 

The band's debut, Shlagenheim, was built around live improvisations structured into dense art-punk. This has been their mode of being ever since they formed back in 2017, and which all fell apart when the pandemic hit. This led to the band taking a decidedly more calculated approach, with each member writing material at home and bringing it to the group. This has resulted in an album as manically out there as it is microscopically deliberate. 

Opening the album and structured around a riff that sounds like one of those “artist discography all at once” videos skipping on a record player, John L is one of the most fast paced and exciting opening tracks I've heard in a long time. Hearing this for the first time was akin to being aurally waterboarded. If you’re like me and that sounds appealing, this album will be for you. Between wading through the jagged instrumental breakdowns, crawling through the jarringly sudden bouts of complete silence, and drowning in the endlessly strange near-spoken word verses in which anteaters rip apart a cult leader, the repeated mantra of “in all the world there's no escape from this eternal din” feels more than appropriate. This really is one of the most unsettlingly exciting pieces of music I've heard all year. 

Flowing perfectly from John L we’re immediately hit with a left hook, and it’s the prettiest left hook I could imagine. On their debut, Black Midi had a couple of slower jams, but nothing nearly as well developed and beautiful as this. Based on the prolific German actress and singer Marlene Dietrich, this track lyrically seems to be about ignoring unwarranted criticism and cutting through the audience's cynicism, though of course in that surreal black midi fashion where every listener will likely have their own interpretation. Musically, this song feels like the band's take on a melancholic Sinatra-esque ballad. It’s such a lovely, melancholic moment on the tracklist, I think this is their most accessible song in their discography. Not due to a dumbing down of their sound, but the stunning timelessness of the beauty present here. 

The following Chondromalacia Patella is a track that I didn’t initially love due to the very strange decision to release it as a single in mono (meaning instead of surround sound it was just one kind of muddy channel). Anyhow, in stereo the structure and performances really shine. I particularly love the slower, jazzier sections, in which the band continue to show their improved structural talents and widened instrumental palette. The subtle piano keys floating over the mix are just wonderful, giving the track a lot of depth in its emotional range, a range somewhat lacking on their previous record. I have to mention the end, where we’re suddenly hit with some guitar shredding so triumphant it almost feels like an Iron Maiden song.

The next track is one I have mixed feelings about.  Instrumentally, Slow is another winding, angular and jazzy noise rock odyssey in the vein of Chondromalacia Patella. It’s very technically impressive, and Morgan's drumming is as intricate as ever, but I don’t feel like there’s much else to take away from it. There are individual moments I love, like the anxiety-ridden guitar passages laced throughout, or the Swans-like chord repetitions, but overall it isn’t a particularly hard hitting experience. I think some of this also has to do with Cameron on the lead vocals, which I don’t think have nearly the same eccentricity and enjoyability of frontman Geordie Greep. 

Moving on, we have one of the album's most interesting and unexpected moments in the form of Diamond Stuff. Structured almost like a post-rock song, we have a slow, brooding beginning of finger picked guitars and flute flourishes that eventually flow into a really jazzy and beautifully relaxed reverb-drenched climax. This is another song where Cameron takes the lead, and his washed out whispery vocals work a lot better in this context. If I have any qualms on the track it’s that the extended introduction is quite nice on the ears, but doesn’t really have enough power or resonance to leave me wanting more. Despite this, the track has enough cool and intriguing detail interlaced throughout to keep it interesting. It really showcases the potential and ambition of the band. 

After some confounding electronic soundplay that isn't often heard in the black midi catalogue, a short and wistful saxophone leads us flowing seamlessly into the next track, Dethroned. Piercing through all this pent up atmosphere are those ever-skilful drums, which never seem to let up. Lyrically, this is a song about denial of one's own fall from grace. I’m continually impressed by Greep’s lyrical stylings, staying surreal while still legible after a few listens. Instrumentally, we’re hit with another tasteful jazz-fusion groove, interlaced with these fuzzy and uniquely arpeggiated guitars. The real magic of the track comes about halfway through, where this strange jazzy noise-rock becomes positively anthemic. This is one of my favourite moments of the album, I can’t listen to it without getting excited. Following this is a super busy and fervent passage of reverb-drenched drums and guitar played with such a pretty, wandering and psychedelic intensity that only black midi can accomplish. If I wanted to nitpick, I would say that sometimes Greep’s vocals sound a little washed out and somewhat buried in the mix, though the instrumentals have such personality that it doesn’t really affect the enjoyability. 

After such a pretty cacophony, one of a different sort begins. A dissonant ringing of strange percussion immediately changes the tone into something more chaotic and unexpected. The amusingly titled “Hogwash and Balderdash” hits us with some absolute Primus worship. Well, if the members of Primus were imprisoned and left in solitary confinement long enough to forget what “song structure” means. This is the shortest track on Cavalcade, and unfortunately I consider it to be the least interesting. Lack of structure is usually something I appreciate in a black midi track, though here the passages seem a little too random. The slower parts are quite pretty, but it mainly does sound like a Primus song in a blender. The last 30 seconds does redeem the track a bit, with the instrumentation reaching a fever pitch. Greep’s vocals grow in eccentricity, a piano messily flourishes, and it feels as though if this track were to go on a second longer, either my headphones or my brain would explode. 

The final track, Ascending Forth, is absolutely stunning. It’s the bands longest studio track to date, and justifies every second of its near 10 minute runtime (It is interesting to note that this song is exactly 9 minutes and 53 seconds long, referencing the first track on the debut, titled 953). Contrasting the screaming discordance of the previous track, we begin with a beautiful acoustic intro, which gives me strong Nursery Cryme-era Genesis vibes. This is another track where Greep vocal improvements really shine through. His sentimental croon gives these strange lyrics an emotive weight that a lesser, more reserved vocalist wouldn’t have a chance in doing. Lyrically, this track seems to be about a man being harshly judged by writing something off the beaten track. I find it quite fitting for this intense, tonally wild album to end with a song about the songwriting process itself.  The song floats along with a reserved power showcasing once again how black midi are not simply a loud improvisational jam band, but can also create these slowly building soundscapes that eventually blossom into a beautifully spacious climax. Coated in strings, horns, and keys, the instrumental feels so full bodied, spontaneous yet very deliberate. It’s an orchestration in the realest sense.  As the song reaches its climax and the repetitions of “everyone loves ascending fourths' ' get louder and more emotive, so does the music. The horn section is something I particularly love, it adds such a fantastic depth. This may be my favourite part of the album. The last few minutes ring out like a celebration of humanity itself, making me feel like there was a heaven, this is what would be heard as the gates open. A conclusion as satisfying as it is colossal. After this just wonderful conclusion, we’re hit with a lovely little coda, wrapping up the record with a gorgeous cinematic sheen. It’s almost comedic in a way only Black Midi could accomplish, to have such a noisy and out there album end with something straight out of a 1920s silent film soundtrack. 

In this track, the key to the entire album is found. It’s an ever-shifting cacophony in which it’s quieter moments contrast it’s louder ones in such a complimentary way that it is unimaginable for them to exist on their own. If I were to nitpick, sometimes the mixing could be clearer, and there are some sections where the technicality rises above songwriting, but these don’t really affect the albums immense enjoyability and creativity. This sort of “everything but the kitchen sink” approach to songwriting is something that in recent decades has been lost in the British rock scene, and I am so happy to hear bands like Black Midi bringing that experimentation back. It’s hard to imagine a band with such unfashionable influences as “progressive rock” or “jazz fusion” getting this much buzz today, and I for one am all for it. Godspeed, post-streaming wasteland! Maybe it’s not all bad.