These New Puritans
Hidden
Rating: 4.5/5.0
Label: Domino
Hidden is a record unlike anything the indie music world has heard in 2010. Brilliant yet somehow repulsive, it walks a fine line between a textured wall of sound and a mere bunch of noise and makes previous notions of "art rock" sound like stripped-down folk ballads. It also represents, in many ways, the instant evolution of a visionary band; gone are the overt Joy Division/Bloc Party parallels that characterized the debut, Beat Pyramid, supplanted by a collage of sounds that threaten to overwhelm the listener's senses. Hidden is certainly not the most approachable record, nor is it the most enjoyable. But it's definitely among the most complex, ambitious and downright exhausting, the rare kind of trend-altering effort that critics and fans may find themselves eulogizing for years to come.
Hidden begins and ends with orchestral, wind-dominated and deceptively tranquil tunes - "Time Xone" and "5" - but don't let these bookends fool you; between them lies a world of sweaty-night-club-dance-floor blips and beats, militant bass, rumbling bassoons, multi-layered woodwinds, clanging synthesizers, delicate pianos and frenetic Japanese Taiko drum beats. Throw in a children's choir, a buoyant pop tune ("Hologram"), melons and cream crackers being smashed with a hammer to convey a human head getting bludgeoned, and often muddled, frequently bleak lyrics from frontman Jack Barnett ("Thy lips are like a sunset glow/ Thy smile is like a morning sky/ Yet leave me, leave me, let me go/ And see the land where corals lie/ The land, the land, where corals lie") and you get the idea. Hidden is the type of sweeping and altogether gaudy record that we've yet to hear this young decade and probably won't hear again anytime soon.
Far from an exercise in experimentalism, the album plays out deliberately and precisely, purposely attacking listeners' senses on the epic "Attack Music" and the equally antagonistic "Fire-Power," creating moods of spookiness, foreboding and surrealism. It's likely no accident that Hidden is a dark three-ring musical circus; from the haunting choral chants of "We Want War" to the airy wind arrangements of "Canticle" to Barnett's ominous lyrical ponderings throughout, every musical element of Hidden serves a specific purpose, drilling a lingering eeriness into the listener's psyche. Hidden seems designed to keep listeners on edge, roping us in with the occasional bout of melodic serenity before an onslaught of heavily synthesized musical disorder throws us right back.
Hidden is also damn hard to wrap your brain around and perhaps better absorbed in small doses. Because there are more genres and concepts present than most listeners would expect to hear in even the most mottled musical vaudeville, it takes serious focus to endure its entirety. If listeners can maintain their concentration, though, they certainly won't be bored or disenchanted by Hidden - one of the most overpowering and comprehensive records in recent years that, like the most audacious pieces of fine art that it invokes, is nearly too bold for its own good.
by Marcus David
