Upon hearing Ezra Furman’s new album, Twelve Nudes, for the first time in its entirety, my first thought was, “That’s a scorcher.”
Furman himself has claimed this is his band’s “punk record” made in a time of furious anger at the current political landscape. It’s also an embrace / exploration of his sexuality. The album cover features someone peeling back their face / façade to reveal a mental image of a bevy of somewhat androgynous, nude figures having a languid moment on a rocky landscape. Furman’s mind, it seems, can be a rough place, but he’s learning to be at peace with it and to find his inner beauty.
The opening track, “Calm Down AKA I Should Not Be Alone,” has Furman barely able to contain his rage at what’s happening in the world around him (“I should not be alone, the way things are going.”). The bass line carries the whole tune while Furman shouts not just to the back of the recording studio, but also to the parking lot behind the building. “Evening Prayer AKA Justice” is a rallying call for his fellow oddballs and outcasts (“I wasted my twenties in submission. I thought I was outside the system. I was rollin’ over for wealthy power, as if they really cared about me. The kids are just getting started. They’ve only just learned how to howl, and most of them have thrown in the towel before they have turned twenty-three.”). Furman’s vocals throughout it are somehow fiercer than the previous track. Furman has mentioned how he sometimes had a sore throat after recording the tracks on this record, and I believe him.
“Nobody cares if you’re dying until you’re dead,” he sings on “Transition from Nowhere,” which reminds me of Dan Bejar songs in its sound and Furman’s vocal style. “Rated R Crusaders” is practically an early Devo cut with its rapid post-punk lyrics and wild, weird guitar riffs. “Trauma” is a hard-hitting, Lou Reed-like rocker (Furman has spoken of Reed’s songwriting influencing his.) about rich white dudes literally getting away with rape and murder.
“Thermometer” has Furman proclaiming his love for rock and roll and how it changed him forever. The 1950’s-flavored “I Want to Be Your Girlfriend” has Furman singing a love song to someone who isn’t interested in him (“Honey, I know I don’t have the body you want in a girlfriend. What I’m working with is not ideal, but maybe, baby, it’s not about what you thought that you wanted, it’s about what I can make you feel.”). It’s a pretty oasis in a middle of a sea of rage, which we’re right back at sea on with the loud, fuzzy, shredding “Blown” (which sounds like a lost Nirvana demo) and “My Teeth Hurt.”
“I’m alone in America,” Furman sings in “In America,” a song that both lambasts the country’s hatred and racism, but also praises what it can be if we’d put our differences aside and focus on our commonality. The album ends with sage advice on what to do when The Man is bringing you down – “What Can You Do but Rock ‘n’ Roll.” It’s a banger to send the album, and us, out on a high note.
Which is what Furman has been encouraging us to do all along – take the high road, even when that road leads to a rocky desert in your mind. You will find the high notes there. You will find beauty and love there.
Keep your mind open.
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