Cursive
Devourer
Run For Cover Records
Everything in moderation, except for the carnivalesque Devourer. An audacious agit-pop spectacle, the latest from post-hardcore harlequins Cursive pulls out all the theatrical stops, as Tim Kasher and company deliver feverish, visceral sermons about power dynamics, consumer culture, and the deadly sin of gluttony – among other related topics – in a grotesque church filled to the rafters with parishioners bound for hell or Walmart. The emo apocalypse is nigh.
At least it would appear so from song titles like “The Avalanche of Our Demise” and “Dead End Days,” the former a boiling pot of infectious urgency and slamming, complex guitar maneuvers briefly calmed by dreamy sitar, and the latter an impassioned, streaming uprising sucked into economic disparity and despair – dancing strings and a stirring melody soaring and crashing midair. The ticking clock at the end of “Dead End Days” warns of impending doom.
Keenly aware of his own destructive appetites, self-truths hit Kasher like a ton of bricks in the grandiose waltz “Rookie” and the polyrhythmic, dizzying “Bloodbather,” which whips up a cyclone of infectious grooves and building drama. Even more intense, the scorching, vertiginous opener “Botch Job” drives with roiling road rage, careening into a frenzy of wrenching, rumbling bass, discordant horns, electric keyboard mayhem, and piercing six-string slashes, as if Cursive was hell bent on meeting Jesus… the Jesus Lizard, that is.
Overflowing with creativity and volatile vibrancy, the exhilarating Devourer – a strong candidate for album of the year – is a relentless, heart-pounding, panoramic symphony conducted by a mad genius, artistically cohesive in its wide-ranging exploration of rampant consumption, whether it’s personal relationships or dwindling economic resources being devoured. Diabolically clever and completely bonkers arrangements, intriguing intros, outros, and bridges – chamber music interludes, mostly – and shape-shifting, heaving masses of vivid, swirling energy make for an aural feast for the senses that is staggering to behold. All the disparate parts and stop-and-start dynamics somehow flow together in an extraordinary feat of engineering.
To top it off, sharp social commentary and tragicomedy storytelling are spotlighted throughout, screwed-up characters aggressively acting out their neuroses on Cursive’s enormous stage. Consider the vaudevillian stomp and vamp of “What the Fuck,” as it teases out a monologue worthy of The Joker, aggrieved and on the verge of coming unglued. Delight in the unaffected pop charm of a bemused “Up and Away” or get lost in the psychedelic disco twilight of “Dark Star,” before the sirens of “The Age of Impotence” arrive to clear out the riff raff.
Devourer is a big, bold adventure, electrifying and beautiful, and all too human. The buffet is open.
