A Place to Bury Strangers 2024
Photo: Ebru Yildiz / Pitch Perfect PR

A Place to Bury Strangers Don’t Let Up on ‘Synthesizer’

The Loudest Band in the World, A Place to Bury Strangers, draw from seminal, post-punk influences while taking things to new places on Synthesizer.

Synthesizer
A Place to Bury Strangers
Dedstrange
1 October 2024

In the 1970s, it was a thing for rock bands to be officially dubbed the Loudest Band in the World, per the Guinness Book of Records and decibel readings taken at concerts. (The Who held the title for several years.) Back then, it was about sheer, in-your-face power and being heard. In a post-punk era, it has meant something else. Thunderous noise rock, like Sonic Youth, can be in your face but also take you out of your comfort zone, negate your ego, or help facilitate, as A Place to Bury Strangers titled an earlier song, “Ego Death”.

Since the Oliver Ackerman-fronted A Place to Bury Strangers began in Brooklyn in the early 2000s, the group has proudly and ably taken the title of Loudest Band in the World title for themselves, both in recordings and, especially live. On Synthesizer, their seventh record, singer/guitar/effects man Ackerman is joined in an oft-rotating lineup by John and Sandra Fedowitz, on bass and drums, respectively, who contributed to the songwriting.

Here, A Place to Bury Strangers continue to draw from seminal, post-punk influences while always taking things to new places. Ackerman built a synthesizer specifically for making this release—he makes customized guitar pedals through his company, Death By Audio, for top acts (e.g., TV on the Radio, U2). That’s certainly one way to ensure originality. The vinyl version of Synthesizer comes with a circuit board converted into a portion of the same synthesizer—which is also the cover of the record. You are probably thinking: What?

Ackerman calls the music on Synthesizer “pretty messed up, chaotic”, yet it still “feels really human”, and he is on point. This is a remarkably fresh and original-sounding record, dense with all sorts of surprising and odd effects. Repeat listening and neighbor-friendly headphones vastly enhanced my appreciation for what A Place to Bury Strangers are doing. There is dancefloor-friendly goth rock (ala Joy Division), intense synth (like a Suicide), trippy shoegaze (e.g., My Bloody Valentine), and so on, but it never sounds derivative. Instead, there is a sense of blowing things up, rebuilding, and re-synthesizing everything into something new.

There are few signs of more traditional song structures—though “Fear of Transformation”, “Bad Idea” and “Comfort Never Comes” are all standout tracks—and that is by design, of course. Some more song structure could have been the difference between an excellent and fascinating record and a great one.

The trio hit the ground running, or grinding, with the industrial angst of “Disgust”. In “Fear of Transformation”, a paranoia (“Fear of knowing / Fear is growing…”) finally breaks with some manic, Ministry levels of coordinated mayhem. They repeatedly push into some dark and heavy territory but avoid going entirely over the edge.

At other times, there is a strumming guitar married with space-rock effects (“Join the Crowd”), or it is tense rhythms, twisted distortions with a danceable beat (“You Got Me”), or yelps and buzzsaw guitars (“Have You Ever Been in Love”). Each song brings its own distinctly odd feel and sounds. Sandra Fedowitz’s driving, snapping drums balance machine-like precision with humanity, while John’s deep bass helps maintain some necessary order.

Ackerman’s vocals are like an amalgamation of goth, Ian Curtis, and, at times, maybe something like “Pink Frost”. The lyrical themes are uniformly about love and heartbreak in a world that can already feel pretty dark and uncertain. Thus, representative lines include: “Dreams flow freely from an open wound” (“Join the Crowd”), and “Let me down time and time again / Somehow I still want to see you / Turning down the one-way dead-end” (“Don’t Be Sorry”).

Ackerman’s voice is also often drenched in reverb, which can sound like an echo buried in the mix and be hard to interpret. Of course, the effect itself is often the message; it is a blurry voice buried in angst and confusion, yet the voice still comes through.

The beautiful and oddly comforting send-off, and maybe the highlight, is “Comfort Never Comes”. Per the title, this represents a sort of rough way of seeing things in life, but songs and original albums like this certainly help. Lastly, that this record will likely result in some pretty devastating live shows almost goes without saying.

RATING 8 / 10
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