Although it’s nearly
an hour, the 15 songs on Flying Saucer Attack’s new album, Instrumentals 2015,
rush by. Dave Pearce has recorded under the name Flying Saucer Attack for over
20 years. His previous records, the earliest of which he made with vocalist
Rachel Brook, explored what he titled "rural psychedelia." Their
album covers often showed haunted scenes, twilit or dark with little or no
typography. This visual approach suits music that consists of spare
arrangements with simple vocals and recurring arrangements of processed
guitars.
Pearce has
always clung to a DIY aesthetic, combining an organic sensibility with layers
of textures. He buries soft voices under feedback waves. Recording to cassette
and CD-R, he captures a gritty, crumpled texture with a post-rock approach
explores how far he can alter his guitar.
His records in
the ‘90s ranged from pastoral moods to manic loops of sound. During and after
his partnership with Brook, Pearce insisted upon control over his production.
He resisted the compact disc, giving in only to reach a wider audience than
that for vinyl, in that transitional era before vinyl came back.
Mirror was the
last in this series of experiments on CD. Released days after the new
millennium, it signaled a shift. The cover’s garish borders swirled in psychedelic
lettering and hinted at bolder, more unsettled contents, drum and bass jostled
alongside folksy and ambient tunes.
One might have
hoped Flying Saucer Attack would continue along those lines, but Instrumentals is their first new release in 15 years, with a title that
clearly explains the new approach. Pearce's soft voice is missed, his focus
instead on effects-laden guitar washes and wisps. The tracks are titled only by
number, forcing the listener to concentrate on the musical merit of pieces that
range from elusive snippets and clouds of chords overlapping with studio
wizardry to a 10-minute finale that lets Pierce’s signature space-rock to find
its footing before floating off.
Most of the album’s
early tracks come and go smoothly if less memorably, but the album picks up in
the double-digits. “Instrumental 10” alternates a soaring sound and a
metronomic repetition that suggests crickets. Simple but effective, this
hearkens back to FSA's roots in Krautrock and drone. “Instrumental 11” is more rhythmic and less meandering,
while “Instrumental 14” stays catchy all the way through. But the problem
remains that the brevity of many of these tracks doesn’t give the listener a
chance to linger and get lost in the music.
The band is at
their best on long songs where Pearce can build and sustain momentum, but this
album’s many short tracks frustrate this pattern. Still, it's good to hear him
again, even without vocals, and this may lead new audiences back to his best work
in the ‘90s. (Spectrum Culture 9-
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