Even with the recent explosion of big opus, post-genre fluff, and also considering the success of groups like Radiohead, The Mars Volta, Tool, and to an extent, Dredg, experimental albums will forever maintain a cult following. Most typical trend-trotters "just don't get it," and even some of the more cerebral minds are quick to call the style a pompous exercise in self-assurance. Either way, appreciation for the more obscure nature of aural entertainment just won't ever have mass appeal and acceptance. That's unless the artist is parlaying a hokey visuals gimmick like a couple of the previous mentioned well-known names.
That's quite a shame for Every Other Fate; the lack of these extras is going to keep their fanbase from extending outside of Texas without any real notability. It's a problem because they are quite above a great many of their brethren that attempt to make this brand audible without irritation, frustration, and plain ole boredom. The band's new album, Phantoms Fill the Skies, brandishes a remarkable torrent of mathematical fiddling juxtaposed against tonal crescendos and backdrops of classic psychedelic rock.
From the beginning of the group's most known inception, Into the Singularity and the Maw of Tomorrow, they've run the unwritten Freethinking Art-Rock Handbook step-by-step. Big word titles, verbose passages of poetic storytelling, and tons of off-kilter tinkering with their instruments. The darker in concept Phantoms Fill the Skies still shows the same unrestrained mind. Heck, the tracklisting alone reads off like a brain baking recipe of 3 1/2 cups El Cielo headings, 2 tablespoons Amputechture ramblings, and 1 teaspoon Lateralus wanking. Fortunately, this time around the band improves on all of these sorts of ideas. They're meshed more ambitiously, and most important, more levelheaded than before. But the best part is that Every Other Fate actually manages to conjure quite a few moments that will be considered exclusive.
Time together has given each member a greater understanding of his peers. Where the freshman effort at times felt like several different erratic wits all going in different directions, this LP manages to bottleneck those themes and flush them out smoothly on the other end of the earphones. Easily noticeable is how well guitarists Josh Cunningham and Matt Hinderlong are getting along than what was presented before. It's pointless to point out certain tracks because just about every song applicable finds the duo effectively segueing between angular, chirpy rhythms and fluttering overtures while inserting power chords at proper climaxes. Whereas being somewhat impassive before, bassist and lead vocalist Brent Ferguson now compliments his brothers' arrangements with exceedingly passionate vocals that deliver the band's ambiguous verses with almost impossible confidence and believability.
The album works best as a whole, and it's truly a more accomplished feat in that sense. Nevertheless, there are a few hymns that manage to slightly edge out the others. The gloriously frenetic "Aru Ghraib (Hotel America)" possesses the most accessible lyrics, effortlessly making it a top "you sing too" moment. "Phantoms" and "Fill the Skies" function perfectly as an epic, and the brief influx of jazz in the latter is an especially nice touch. The record also slows down nicely for perhaps the most controlled moment on the first-rate ballad, "Rebirth." The closing track, "Sleep, In Red," processes a hauntingly beautiful transition.
Just as much as this recording shines over its predecessor, it goes to show that art-rock doesn't have to screech of pretense as its reputation suggests as of late. The only real crime to the ears is hearing that the asking price for this splendid album is less than ten dollars. Well here's one eager customer more than willing to plunk it down. Sheeeesh, I would have paid over twenty.
