The Black Angels don’t get enough credit for the design of their album covers. The artwork is always mind-bending on them. Take, for instance, the cover of their newest record, Wilderness of Mirrors. It looks like a bunch of repeating right angles in various patterns, like a gigantic maze you can neither enter or exit. You feel like something is there, however. Then, you look at it just right, or look at it while you move it one way or another, and the message in the art reveals itself.
It’s the same with their music. Their songs are often multi-layered or have things you seem to hear only when in certain states of mind, in certain environments, or during certain types of weather.
“With a Trace” starts sounding muted and then bursts forth with hypnotizing fuzz. “History of the Future” has both a wonderful title (a meditation on how something will be perceived before it even exists) and some of the heaviest guitar riffs and drums on the record. It’s difficult at times to determine if Stephanie Bailey‘s beats or Christian Bland‘s guitars are dominating the song because they swing back and forth like Godzilla fighting King Kong.
“We can watch it all go to hell,” Alex Maas sings on “Empires Falling” – a song about the rage and cries for justice (“Our country’s bleeding from street to bloody street.”). It swirls and roars, serving as both a call to action and a warning. “El Jardín” is a psych-rock love song, the kind that The Black Angels do so well – a tale of love, mystery, probably death, and acceptance of whatever outcome the universe has planned.
On “La Pared (Govt. Wall Blues),” they sing about the impermanence of things that seem indestructible at first, and the rage they felt at a border wall being built in their home state of Texas (“You can build this wall of hate, but we’ll never separate.”). “Firefly” includes sexy French vocals in another song about lost love. “Make It Known” and “The River” are cool psych-drifts, the latter of which names Syd Barrett, Roky Erickson, and other psychedelic legends.
The title track has a dangerous swagger to it and sounds like it belongs in an A24 Studios horror film. “I’ve been trying to warn you, here and now, and always,” Maas sings on “Here & Now” – a dire warning about what we’re doing to Mother Earth. “100 Flowers of Paracusia” has an ethereal feel to it that floats back down to Earth with Morricone-like guitar chords.
“A Walk on the Outside” is a lyrical riff on Lou Reed‘s “Walk on the Wild Side,” and the heavy bass and wild synths spin around you like a kitten chasing a shoestring held by a little kid. “Vermillion Eyes” lifts you off the ground and lets you float there without worry. The soaring guitars on “Icon” then send you into outer space as Maas mentions Nico and The Velvet Underground (from whom the band get their name, in case you weren’t aware) and you’re soon lost in a neat state of being that’s difficult to describe. The album ends with “Suffocation,” an interesting name for a final track on an album about facing what’s within us (whether we want to or not) and breaking free of illusion. The track isn’t suffocating at all. It’s uplifting by the end. The Black Angels leave us with hope that we can remove our metaphorical masks and walk out of the wilderness we’ve created into something real and meaningful.
It’s their best album in a while – and that’s saying something since they’ve yet to release a bad record.
Keep your mind open.
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