A brief history of the Los Angeles rock scene, post-2007: Silversun Pickups are Best New Artist Grammy nominees for their second LP, a former McSweeney's and Men's Health writer hit the VH1 big time with Airborne Toxic Event, No Age's the Smell becomes a nationally recognized landmark, Devendra Banhart dates Natalie Portman, the lead singer of West Indian Girl marries Trent Reznor. And yet, all of those seem less implausible than the second Deadly Syndrome record being received so quietly. This band was on its way three years ago-- galvanizing live shows, fervent local support, and The Ortolan, a record which hit enough populist-indie pleasure points to transcend the notion that they were mere beneficiaries of Silver Lake's hype cycle.
I don't know exactly what happened to the Deadly Syndrome in the time since, but judging from Nolens Volens not much of it was good. The record sounds haunted by missed opportunities, isolation, and spiritual crisis. Solo acoustic opener "Villain" announces Nolens Volens as a totally different record than its predecessor-- the carnival instrumentation is dialed way back. You will no longer be hearing Wolf Parade comparisons. More startling are singer Chris Richard's vocals, which sound sapped of all hope, his yelp turned into a confessional plaint almost ashamed of itself before he turns accusatory ("why don't you just go fuck off and die? Is there anything you need?").
Despite a dangerously sweet piano lead, "Doesn't Matter" is no brighter, Richard shrugging through another morning wasted on sleep. "Party City" and the "Paint It, Black"-drone of "Deer Trail Place" conjure drawn blinds and the disappearance of once-familiar faces, but while they're visceral, they're not muscular. Instead, they convey a feeling the record as a whole absolutely nails, the twitchy confusion borne of someone feeling trapped by their own inaction.
As with The Ortolan, Nolens Volens rounds out with a synthetically composed epilogue, but the differences between the two are the most vivid illustration of the Deadly Syndrome's attitude shift. "This Old Home" was a Casio-heavy lark that conveyed a sense of humor the band mostly evidenced outside of their actual songs. "Heresy" is eight minutes of mournful drones and chipping snares. Hell, in the end I don't know if Nolens Volens predicts the band packing it in or hitting a crucial turning point. I'm hoping for the latter-- for all The Ortolan's pleasures, in retrospect it feels like a record that was going only as far as its ability to draw name-drops. Nolens Volens may be more sonically spare and emotionally despondent, but it's exponentially more honest and direct. This might not be the band's debut, but it feels like the first time we're really hearing what the Deadly Syndrome have to say.
