Wednesday, October 14, 2020

Album Review: Big Black Delta - 4


The latest album from former Mellowdrone singer Jonathan Bates, under his project Big Black Delta, is the product of extraordinary clarity. After years of drinking and chemical dependency, Bates has begun picking up all the pieces of himself that he had let flake, or otherwise discarded over the years in pursuit of a buzz, and started to glue them back together into a whole human man. I can’t begin to understand what that struggle is like, or what crawling out of the depths of dependency will do to your body and mind, or if it’s possible to repair the relationships that addiction has damaged or bleed dry, but I’m happy for anyone who can come through it and see the light of a new day on the other side.

There is a cliché about how sobriety helps you focus on what’s important to you in life, and despite being a cliché, I actually think it’s true, especially on 4. It’s an incredibly polished sounding collection of songs that sees Bates returning to the mic again following a period of absentia on his largely instrumental 2017 album whoRU812. Many of the songs on 4 appear to deal with themes of renewed and enduring devotion, and it’s therefore fitting that much of the sonic influences for the album are drawn from periods in popular culture when effluent surges of romantic intent were not only prized, but expected.

“Vessel” spins through glorious, gushing clouds of coolly compact synth cush and a chiming clatter of percussion that sounds like it could have been a joint songwriting effort with Roland Orzabal. Similarly, “Politics Of Living” and “White Lies” proudly pinch from the pockets of Talk Talk and Thompson Twins, bringing those group's obsessions with soul and miniaturized orchestral movements into a bottom end favoring modern rock production. More straightforwardly electronic influences play the leading role in the tense, neon-starlight, spirit-stirring trounce of “Summoner.” An excruciatingly melancholic but defiantly buoyant piano riff acts as the central protagonist of “Sunday”’s vespertine apocalypse, digging such a deep well of reflective thoughts and emotions, that your likely to drown in it if you’re not careful to keep your head above the swell of empathic sensation. 

While the new wave and experimental dance influences are well articulated and elevating to observe, it’s really the big, bad rock numbers that keep me coming back to 4. “Heaven Here I Come” is certainly centered around a lovely electo-R’nB vocal melody, but it’s the huge, harry Van Halen solos and meatball grooves that drive the track and cash the check that the twinkling synths and cooing melodies write.

And then there is the opener, “Lord Only Knows,” with its anguished, wailing intro, sludgy raking bass, and valiant mountain-piercing guitars. It threatens to be a souped-up Mötley Crüe track in the vein of “Looks That Kill,” only to have its fire contained by the heat-shielding calm of Bate’s even, delicate vocal performance, allowing the track to keep its momentum while it slowly transitions into a balletic bloom of uplifting synths and heralding horns unlocking the mysteries of the consecration of human love with the skeleton key of a blithely skipping, brass-ringed, piano refrain.

You don’t need a 12-step program to clear your head today, so long as you can hit play on Big Black Delta’s 4 and let it guide you to where your heart knows it needs to be.