The second full length album, Images
Du Futur, from Montreal's Suuns begins with noisy and scratchy guitar
in “Powers Of Ten.” Ben Shemie’s angry sounding vocals come in, another quick
guitar scratch and then a grungy groove is established. Grunge is certainly a
loaded term and in describing Suuns’ sound, I do not mean to form a comparison
to early 90s Seattle-based indie. What I mean to express is that their sound is
grimy, filthy and sung frustratingly through clenched teeth. Suuns has an
abrasive, industrial vibe with slow angst-ridden movement. The second track,
“2020,” is disjointed with many stops and re-starts. Heavy synth bass pulses
underneath a screaming descending guitar line. The guitar work throughout the
album is experimental and often dissonant, minimal in its implementation, but
huge in the mix. The record on a whole may be described similarly, that is,
with a minimal arrangement. This aspect of Images
Du Futur is not for lack of content. It manifests as a matter of
songwriting precision. There are no frivolous cover-ups, but rather sonic
choices made with stark purpose.
Images
Du Futur creates a bleak atmosphere, a sound
track perhaps to a dystopian science fiction narrative. The environment
presented is cold, and disconnected. Each note on the guitar squeals out of the
instrument to reveal a tortured individual expression. There is also a certain
dreamlike quality to the album, or rather nightmarish. The tone of the music is
unforgiving in a way that makes the distorted vision created by Suuns seem
false for lack of human connection.
The instrumental title track adds bit of warmth to the sound simply by avoiding the harsh electronic
predisposition of the record previous to this point with the addition of
strings that enter this track about half way through. Shemie’s vocals although
human, do not offer a similar respite, but rather enforce a feeling of
isolation. The strings are distant and serve as an echo of an epoch that has
come and gone, a wormhole that has been opened momentarily with a direct
auditory link to the past. However, hope is dashed by Shemie’s sobering
assertion in the final track “Music Won’t Save You.” Here Shemie’s vocals
narrate the role of a cynical voice that disparages another’s effort to do
anything other than except the cold, bleak world. “You were singing about
something,” Shemie disinterestedly mocks, and then later on, “But music won’t
save you.” Damn, I thought that it might.
Images
Du Futur will probably not save you, but it may
serve as a companion for what remains of these cold winter months. It will
share your pessimism and vindicate your seasonal depression brought on by lack
of sunlight and having to huddle indoors. Suuns have created a unique indie
experience that is thorough and without plot holes. Images Du Futur is consistently grimy and while it may not ease
your sorrows, it will gladly share in them with you.
Grade: B
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