My first encounter with Swans was when a friend played me 'Children of God,' an album he'd been lent by a mutual friend that he really wasn't sure what to make of. I was unsure at first, too, but there was no question that it was unlike anything else I had ever heard. The name kept cropping up, and before long I was compelled to pick up a copy of 'Cop' at a record fair. It absolutely floored me. Some have suggested that 'Cop' is one of the heaviest albums ever recorded. They're probably right. And so, in my mid teens, I found myself completely taken with Swans, and they've been a touchstone of my musical tastes ever since.
One of the wonderful things about Swans was the fact they never stayed still. Each album was a progression, a development, an expansion on that early vision. Even when they went 'commercial' - albeit briefly, on 'The Burning World' - they never lost the intensity that made them such an incredible band.
The phenomenally epic and expansive 'Soundtracks for the Blind' was a long time ago, and while I've enjoyed Michael Gira's post-Swans work (The Body Lovers / The Body Haters, Angels of Light, the latter of whom it is actually possible to enjoy), I have missed Swans. For this reason, I was thrilled at the prospect of a new studio album after almost 15 years away - it's not a reunion, Gira stresses, but the next phase of Swans.
He's absolutely right. 'My Father Will Guide Me' doesn't sound like any of its predecessors; it's not a Mk II of any of their previous albums. It does, however, have all of the elements that made Swans great in their previous incarnation. More specifically, it contains the key elements that defined their sound from across the spread of their previous incarnation. So, while demonstrating the epicness of the later works, the beautiful fragility that began to creep in from 'Children of God' onwards, and the lyrical obsessions that featured throughout, Parts of 'My Father Will Guide Me' also mark something of a return to the relentless, bone-crushing force of the earlier releases too. In this respect, its closest relation is perhaps 'The Great Annihilator,' a magnificently formed album that straddles all elements of the band's career on a single record.
'No Words / No Thoughts' does contain words, but none in the first four minutes of its nine and a half minute duration. Opening with a singularly repetitive chime of guitars and heavy regimental percussion, cut through with scraping drones that drill straight into the listener's skull, it builds and builds, and is both textured and monumental in scope and sound. It's simultaneously exhilarating and draining, a colossal statement of intent that shakes the listener's mind and body. And that's only the first half of the first track.
'Reeling the Liars In' provides a briefly gentle interlude more in keeping with Gira's work with Angels of Light before the dark twisted folk of 'Jim.' It might not contain the piledriving power-chords of some of Swans' weightiest output, but Gira nevertheless manages to build an intensity as he whips himself into a frenzy, coming on like a messianic evangelist against a relentless sonic backdrop that has both breadth and depth. 'My Birth' takes a turn for the heavier, built around a battering percussive assault and yawning guitar motif that bludgeons the senses from all sides.
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Lyrically, Gira's as violent and abrasive as he's ever been, returning to his longstanding theme of twisted familial relations: 'Then I strangled your neck, because I love you too much / The I kissed your red mouth, because I love you to death / Now Mother I need you / I need your claws in my neck...' The desire, or need, for punishment has returned, too, as he howls the closing lines, 'hold on to my memory, and keep me to blame. Please need me to blame.' Self-flagellation was rarely so exciting, music rarely so raw and painful, and it's abundantly clear that Gira's angst - and I don't mean that in any light or juvenile sense - has returned with full force.
'You Fucking People Make Me Sick' begins gently enough, with vocals courtesy of Devendra Banhart, whom Gira first discovered, and Saioirse Gira, who together deliver a slightly off-kilter sounding but nevertheless melodic, lilting folk number... until, that is, it all takes a turn for the nasty, and dissonant, discordant brass and synths bray their way into the mix. 'Inside Madeline,' too, begins innocuously enough, but soon builds to a yawning drone that ebbs and flows in almost nauseating manner. This finally tapers off, and Gira comes on like Leonard Cohen crooning in a vaudeville style. It's as close to light-hearted or fun as you're likely to get on a Swans album.
'Eden Prison' is every bit as punishing and constrictive-sounding as its title suggests. The first half is built around a single, simple riff and Bill Rieflin's busy industrial-strength percussion. Three minutes in, the pace slows and the weight grows as a single chord is pushed to its absolute limits and beyond. 'Little Mouth' brings thing to a conclusion, and while lyrically it's anything but gentle, its delivery is, and to many listeners, this will come as a relief.
No two ways about it: Swans have evolved, and are yet again light years ahead of any other band. 'My Father Will Guide Me' is an enormous, expansive album in every sense. Hard work and even heavy going at times, it's also a remarkably accomplished and rewarding album. Ultimately, 'My Father Will Guide Me' marks a most welcome return for Swans, and was well worth the wait.
http://www.myspace.com/swansaredead
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