Infinite Body's Kyle Parker used to perform as Gator Surprise, one of many shirtless dudes moaning into suitcases full of pedals around Los Angeles. But his debut LP as Infinite Body, White Hymn, found him working with surprisingly restrained tones; it was pretty but transitional. His new album, Carve Out the Face of My God, released on the label run by No Age's Dean Spunt, is bolder and fully realized, with almost every shoegazey glow countered by a noisy growl. Parker's noise origins are perceptible in his music, but you could boil down the story to "Lapsed harsh noise guy goes soft; produces best work of his career." This sort of mellowing usually happens over time-- think of how Hisham Bharoocha's music changed from Lightning Bolt to Black Dice to Soft Circle. Parker seems to have leapfrogged ahead: Gator Surprise was gnarlier than Lightning Bolt, while Infinite Body is dreamier than Soft Circle.
Here, Parker has managed to synthesize a lot of familiar sounds into a broadly appealing statement: Burning Star Core's contoured interference, MBV's ear-piercing chords, and Rhys Chatham's invincible distortion. Parker's own thumbprint manifests in the clear, meticulous interplay of these elements. "Dive" operates on three distinct levels: a warm, soupy base drone, a high modulating one, and a graceful synth melody that slowly rocks back and forth. The timbre of the melody bloats as the drones fade out, so that it seems to be soaking up the distortion. Transparency is the album's watchword: All transactions between noise and beauty are fully disclosed.
A good deal of variety fits within these generous parameters. "A Fool Persists" is merely a single string figure that rises and gently crumbles, over and over. It doesn't sound like much on paper, but slight modulations in the tempo and phrasing give the stack of notes a slightly different character with each repetition. It's actually one of the most magical tracks here-- black and white spilling into Technicolor on a quiet loop. "On Our Own to Fall Off" is shot through with glassy, chattering lines, like a distorted Field track with the drums stripped off. And "Sunshine", the most involved composition, exemplifies Parker's artfully mechanical approach-- gradually turning itself inside out, its staccato pulse giving way to a mass of drones. Parker's diligence pays off big. Carve Out the Face of My God is overwhelming, but not disorienting, thanks to core melodies that work like signposts pointing our way through the distortion. It's a rare meeting of raw force and listener-friendly order.
