Broadcast and the Focus Group “Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age” Review
The first time I heard Broacast‘s new mini-record Broadcast and The Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age, I played it for my girlfriend while we had breakfast on a chilly Saturday morning. In retrospect, it doesn’t make for the best Saturday morning soundtrack. “I like it,” she told me, “but I feel like we should be stoned or something.” Indeed, the bizarre music seemed fitting for something far stronger than our hallucinogenic-free omelets. It is obtuse, peculiar, and not always pleasurable to listen to.
For starters the collection of 23 short tracks doesn’t adhere to any sort of conventional musical standard—for all intents and purposes it could just be one really long song. The found sounds, unearthly singing, distortion and mumbling snippets of melodies all run hodgepodge over each other without much semblance of beginnings or ends (one wouldn’t be advised, for instance, to try and cherry pick any singles via iTunes). At times the sound is studio-clean and at others it sounds as if it was recorded on a home cassette player. At its worst it’s pretentious art school music. At its best it’s like stepping into someone else’s fantastically grotesque dream.
I believe it falls mostly into the latter category, but that’s not to say that I didn’t occasionally roll my eyes at some of the album’s more intentionally non-musical aspects. While Witch Cults may never get played in my stereo as often as Broadcast’s more straightforward work—like the twin triumphs of Haha Sound and The Noise Made by People, in some ways it is a much more interesting listen than either. The ’60s psychedelic undertones of Trish Keenan’s vocals are still recognizable, and they ebb and flow through the record somewhat aimlessly, navigating around eerie keyboard effects, crashes, and muffled background noise. At times it sounds a bit like Broadcast’s other records if you were hearing them played backwards from the apartment beneath your own alongside the clatter of everyday life (and lots of bird noises). The closest thing the record gets to an orthodox song is “The Be Colony,” a hazy tune that recalls the band’s earlier work. “The Be Colony” prefaces the record’s descent into obfuscation that increases the further in you delve. (The track is even reprised at the end, seemingly mashed up with two other songs.)
Most of the record is a compiled of wandering sonic textures that neither fit completely inside or outside of the conventional song structure. It is at times aloof and mysterious and at others, intimate to the point of feeling like you are inside someone else’s head. Whether the more unconventional sound is a result of the record’s collaborator, Julian House (The Focus Group), or a taste of what is yet to come on Broadcast’s upcoming full-length (due out next year) remains to be seen. I highly recommend giving Witch Cults a listen though, even if it will doubtlessly turn off those looking for something more accessible. Rather than listening to it over breakfast I suggest a dark misty night with a full moon in surroundings that evoke “opium den” or “abandoned church” if they are available. Drug use optional.