Serena-Maneesh
S-M 2: Abyss in B Minor
Rating: 3.0/5.0
Label: 4AD
Norway’s Serena-Maneesh arrived like a force of nature in 2006; I didn’t know much about them when I caught them at a small club, but they killed that night at that sparse crowd. The music was overwhelming and physically imposing, leaving me impressed and a little dazed. Their self-titled debut had a similar power, updating My Bloody Valentine’s wall of sound template with hard rock swagger, metal heaviness, psych density and, of course, serious volume. Just as quickly as they hit, they disappeared, releasing only a compilation of earlier recordings in the intervening years. Serena-Maneesh have finally resurfaced with their second album and their first for veteran British indie label 4AD. Given that label’s history of the brutal (The Birthday Party) and the lovely (Cocteau Twins), it’s a perfect home for a band that, at their best, combine both qualities.
Maybe because they’ve been gone a while, they saddled the album with the unwieldy title of S-M 2: Abyss in B Minor, which makes it sound like more of a pretentious, bombastic statement album than it is. Compared to the sprawl of their debut, S-M 2 is concise, focused and restrained, with eight songs in less than 40 minutes. It’s a rare album that is too short and S-M are one of the few groups who are best when they are excessive, over-the-top and unabashedly stretching songs past normal lengths. It kicks off with “Ayisha Abyss,” a long song that begins with ambient sounds and then revs up with shimmering, heavy guitars, throbbing bass and somewhat industrial club rhythms that unfortunately conjure the late ’90s. It occasionally recalls one time tourmates Nine Inch Nails, albeit with more of a psychedelic shoegaze feel and blurred vocal fragments that swerve in and out. It sounds great, but it never really coalesces into anything. It’s also not very typical of the album, which has more short, pretty, close to pop songs than you’d expect.
Perhaps it’s just because of the label connection, but the gauzy, ethereal female vocals on the album bring Cocteau Twins to mind-although it’s a Cocteau Twins where Kevin Shields is the guitarist. Songs two through four form a sort of mini-suite, with the cool, blissful female vocals played off of the big, layered guitars; “I Just Want to See Your Face” could be an outtake from Loveless. “Melody for Jaana” drops the drums and adds acoustic guitar for one of the sweetest, swooniest songs they’ve ever done. And while this makes for pleasant listening, they seem to have forsaken some of the power and volume that made them so memorable in the first place. “Blow Yr Brains in the Mourning Rain” has some more techno-industrial rhythms, but the album ends with a gentle, pastoral song that slowly fades out. It’s only on “Honeyjinx,” with its monolithic, Zeppelin-caliber guitars that seem to be coming from the heavens, that S-M remind you what they’re capable of; yet it could have gone on longer and been the “Kashmir” of the album.
Unlike other wall-of-sound bands such as A Place to Bury Strangers or Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, they’re not just being loud to be badass, but rather to transport the listener, though this album skimps on their noisier, more adventurous side. Another weakness is that the vocals too often feel like an afterthought. Leader Emil Nikolaisen’s vocals are, in typical shoegaze fashion, mostly buried in the mix and he wisely lets his sister take lead on a number of tracks, but the lyrics are rarely clear.
Given some of the components that went into the making of S-M 2-partly recorded in a cave on the outskirts of Oslo, inspired by Neil Hagerty and bossa nova, a Sufjan Stevens guest spot, an average eight days mixing for each song-it’s not as ambitious or interesting as it should be. It never sounds less than great-like a blanket of sound enveloping the listener-but it’s missing something. The more melodic, dreamy songs show a different side of the band, but don’t really move it forward. Serena-Maneesh are at their best when they’re going big and this album, while solid, is not big or bold enough.
by Lukas Sherman
