Some people are never satisfied. One by one, just about every established laptop artist has abused their popularity by breaking out into spontaneous song or rediscovering half a talent for, like, glockenspiel, and assuming we're interested. What is this epidemic of narcissistic self-reference afflicting today's electro-auteur? Is it a kind of masturbatory ego deconstruction? Or simply an instinctive yearning for recognition as a "proper" musician and a reaction to the genre's perennial dismissal?
Whatever the answer, the results have ranged from challenging (Venetian Snares' operatic explorations) to confounding (overachiever Squarepusher's live bass and drumming showcase Music Is Rotted One Note) to downright weird (Bogdan Raczynski's creepy crooning on My Love I Love). Despite the experimentation and progression of their Warp, Planet Mu, Skam, and Schematic peers, Andrew Weatherall and Keith Tenniswood had, to date, oozed a self-satisfied maturity and spurned the temptation to completely revamp their sound with each successive release. That attitude engendered a seamless continuity of production; their tight, elaborate beats held together beautiful melodies ranging from staccato funk to underwater drone, cemented by techno sensibilities cultivated from years of industry experience.
But with From the Double Gone Chapel, Two Lone Swordsmen, among the most resilient and dependable purveyors of quality cerebral electro going, have attempted their own bewildering departure. "Stack-Up"'s freaky funk opens the album with a murky, ambivalent swell of synths that begets an instant unfamiliarity. Negotiating your expectations through this live-sounding hybrid makes for one disorienting experience. It's truly unsettling hearing the usually dominant drum machines strangled and dwarfed by a threatening mix of feedback and gothic vocalizing reminiscent of The Sisters of Mercy and Mick Harvey's darker efforts. On "Faux", Weatherall sings, "She's like a tornadom" in a flat, deep, bit-crushed voice that would sound at home on a Einstürzende Neubauten track-- and he keeps this up for pretty much the entire album.
Once the initial alarm subsides, the structures and rhythms reveal a certain cordiality. The live drums, phased bass, and sparse guitar phrasing on the excellent "Damp" have no discernible heritage anywhere in the TLS catalog, yet there's something in the beat syncopation and smooth, serene strings that's intrinsically Weatherall/Tenniswood.
Since Weatherall's famed emergence as producer of Primal Scream's Screamadelica, he's had a hand in most areas of production, including a prolific DJ career and frequent remixing and board work for New Order, Saint Etienne, Beth Orton, and others. So now he wants to sing. Which is unfortunate, because Weatherall's not a particularly gifted vocalist, and some may find TLS's proven abstract approach preferable to his consistently bleak poetry: "The alarm in his head/ Moving into the red/ And it sounded like punches and knives." The glutinous acid on "Sick When We Kiss" is deviant and suggestive enough without the seedy utterances; this preoccupation with loss, anger and bitterness sounds like nothing so much as Weatherall and Tenniswood jumping at the chance to address their repression directly.
A cover of Gun Club's "Sex Beat" hints at the duo's influences and ties the album's ideology together. On much of From the Double Gone Chapel, punk, goth, and electronics exist in effective cohabitation, but some tracks are polarized strongly toward one genre or another. The harmonized duet on "Taste of Our Flames" eschews any semblance to prior TLS material, while "The Valves" is a stripped down, claustrophobic affair that might've happily graced 2000's astounding Stay Down. Still, generally speaking, you'd have to go back as far as 1994 (to Weatherall's Sabres of Paradise LP The Haunted Dancehall) to find this new spawn's paternal gene pool.
Two Lone Swordsmen's new direction takes getting used to, and From the Double Gone Chapel isn't an easy first listen for longtime fans. The contrasting styles don't always sit comfortably, but individual tracks sparkle with creativity and the newfound dark side is a surprisingly pleasant fit. Raw and impulsive, From the Double Gone Chapel's tattered edges do it justice. Two Lone Swordsmen have successfully jerked their whole operation around, and they just about pull it off. Having sat so long at the top of their game, Weatherall and Tenniswood can't be blamed for wanting to shake things up a bit-- and judging by this record, they're more than capable.
