As I reflect on the nature of Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra's new LP, Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything, a quote from the Dhammapada comes to mind: "As irrigators lead water where they want, as archers make their arrows straight, as carpenters carve wood, the wise shape their mind." In summary--if you truly want change, you must cut through all distractions and be steadfast in your intention. This takes effort, especially in our "modern" age. We are pulled here and there, from heinous advertisements bombarding our YouTube videos to sensationalist media that portrays extreme violence like a reality television show to widespread corporate control. I could keep compiling examples, but I think you already know what they all have in common: the old ways are dying. Society isn't sustainable. We know this, yet (most) of us plod forward in denial. Within this LP, I hear a burning protest collected in the fray. It has the sentiment of Brian Jonestown Massacre, the radical, reeling attitude of punk, and lyrical portrayal of our age. Fuck Off Get Free is indeed a protest of our current state, but more so, an apology. We're sorry, kids. We'll try better next time.
It's no coincidence that "Rains Thru The Roof At The Grande Ballroom" is dedicated to Brooklyn rapper Capital Steez, who committed suicide in 2012 after posting a tweet that said, 'the end.' The suicide is important here. Besides trying to analyze all the plot points that lead up to this kind of death, let's focus on the fact that a Tweet was sent as his last words. Who saw that, I wonder, out of the rapid stream of characters depicted on the screen? Opening the track is a sound-byte from what appears to be a radio talk show. The man speaks in English and the French translator layers his interpretations. The man says, "Music is a way of life. It's more than something you do on the weekend...it's what you are. It's how you live." Quickly after, a mournful drum taps on as the mellotron churns in spirals. Efrim Menuck (of Godspeed You! Black Emperor)'s vocals are vacant, almost hollow, but still squeeze out the phrases that sometimes get muddled in the high reverb of the organ. As the last song on the album, its positioning reinforces their convictions introduced in the earlier, lengthier compositions.
The opening track, "Fuck Off Get Free" features a sound-clip from Menuck's son, who's depicted on the album cover above. He says, "We live on the island of Montreal. We make a lot of noise because...we love each other!" The use of an innocent-perspective to lead in an almost Irish-folk ballad soaring in drowsy violins and consistent chanting of the phrase "fuck off get free" supports the point that this really is an album about crisis. It raises important questions, like: how are we going to address younger generations about inequalities? If we band together, can we prevent atrocities from happening? Maybe. The lyrical content is encouraging with a hint of cynicism. Toward the end of the track, the guitar distorts into a heavy metal strum as their eerie voices bleat, over and over, "hold me under/ in the water/ never let us in."
"Austerity Blues" is the longest song on the album, that eggs on similarly to "Fuck Off Get Free" with a little more feedback in the way. It's almost so high at times that the lyrics are indecipherable. As a mostly instrumental track, there is a consistent build at all times that doesn't break down until the refrains "Lord, let my son/ live long enough/ to see that mountain torn down" and "all we want is what we're owed" reveal Menuck's anxiety about his contributions to the world that he may not be able to witness. That's definitely what's at stake here--the endless battle to fight for equality and balance that at times seems hopeless and oh-so-dark. "Take Away These Early Grave Blues" cringes as a continuation of the haunting apocalyptic visions.
As a contrast "Little Ones Run" is a pseudo-lullaby featuring Jessica Moss and Sophie Trudeau that only clocks in at around 3 minutes. As the plucked piano and sonorous contrebasse played by Thierry Amar wields a minor melody, they croon a tiny tale about the nature of birds, and although it's meant to sound comforting the lyrics still disturb, "they gather up what's left to save...leave the rest and fly away." "What We Loved Was Not Enough" features a duet of Menuck's voice and Moss' into a lamenting ode to the past. To the undeniable truth that things may not be the same, that sorrow lurks around every corner. Although, Thee Silver Mt. Zion has a better plan. They understand the give and take, the light that needs to flood in to fix the system, how to educate others one moment at a time. Folks--this one's for the children.
Grade: B
Informative!