Sleigh Bells arrived fully formed with blunt rock riffs, crunk beats, and airy, feminine vocals. Their debut, Treats, may be the first record to fetishize the negative consequences of the Loudness War, with guitarist and producer Derek E. Miller pushing an already bombastic sound to absurd extremes by deliberately narrowing the music's dynamic range to the point of clipping even at moderate volumes. Treats owes its greatness to its simple, direct hooks, but the band's overly hot recordings were also thrilling in that they tapped into our positive associations with cranking stereos up to the maximum volume because we loved what we were hearing.
Sleigh Bells' second album, Reign of Terror, is plenty loud, but it doesn't rely on this volume trick. Instead, the duo emphasizes the delicate elements of their sound that mostly got crowded out in the midrange of Treats' speaker-melting din. Alexis Krauss, the former teen-pop singer turned punk-rock badass, is foregrounded throughout the record, and her roots in Clinton-era bubblegum are more fully integrated with Miller's heavy riffing. The beats are less indebted to hip-hop this time around and the guitar parts have gone full-on metal, alternating between elemental AC/DC-like hooks and late-80s harmonics.
Reign of Terror is a brash, hyperactive set of songs, but Miller and Krauss' synthesis of disparate strands is exceptionally graceful, with traditionally macho and girly sounds flowing together seamlessly in dynamic, often ecstatic pop tunes. They refine their take on girl-group pop and cheerleader chants on "Leader of the Pack" and "Crush", and set shoegazer swooning to machine-gun drum fills on "Born to Lose". More impressively, Krauss' melodies somersault over Miller's waves of alt-rock buzz guitar and colorful keyboards on "Comeback Kid", and they fully commit to the gentle, sentimental melodies of "End of the Line" without compromising their noisy aesthetic. "You Lost Me", one of three consecutive songs that lean hard on metal harmonics at the end of the set, is straight-up gorgeous, with layers of clean notes, slow-motion drones, and breathy coos building to a headbanging catharsis.
Sleigh Bells pull off this more sophisticated and nuanced approach without calling attention to their improved craft or maturity. They remain obsessed with overwhelming their audience with excitement and pleasure, and their heaviest moments on Reign of Terror eclipse those on Treats. "Demons", the record's fist-pumping centerpiece, is an adrenaline rush sustained over three minutes, with Krauss affecting her most sinister tone above an overpowering riff straight out of the (original) "Beavis and Butt-Head" series. Miller has mastered the big dumb riff, but his arrangements are full of subtle touches that embellish and reinforce the bludgeoning attack of his chords. All through Reign of Terror, he and Krauss hit upon an ideal balance of texture and simplicity, expanding on their basic formula without losing any of their direct, unfussy charm.
The band makes such incredibly physical music that the lyrics would seem to be beside the point, but it's notable that so many songs on both records are fixated on winning and losing. This isn't a surprise, really-- given the triumphant sound of this music, what else would you want to sing over it? Krauss often sings from the perspective of a supportive confidant, offering a sweet pep talk on "Comeback Kid", or empathizing with a friend's suicidal thoughts on "Born to Lose". She spends a good chunk of Reign of Terror dwelling on the aftermath of violence and tragedy, seeking out ways of coping, moving on, and thriving despite the chaos. Themes of suicide pop up throughout the album, climaxing with "You Lost Me", which seems to be at least partly inspired by a pair of Nevada teens who attempted suicide while listening to Judas Priest in 1985. (One survived and their parents famously sued the band.) Krauss avoids moralizing on the subject, opting instead to project understanding and concern. In a small way, her approach is refreshing and subversive-- this sort of aggressive, over-the-top rock is traditionally a vehicle for narcissism, but she invests this music with kind-hearted concern for others.
