Personality goes a long way. On paper, Light Asylum-- the Brooklyn electro-goth duo of Shannon Funchess and Bruno Coviello-- seem to have plenty at their disposal. You can put the rise of their very accessible but aggressive brand of darkwave down to any number of things: from the band's intense live performances to their unique aesthetic that smears smoky blacks with punchy neons. There's enough to go around in Funchess alone, from her bone-rattling vocals to her fashion sense (cyber apocalypse biker priestess comes to mind), and the fact that she's been a fixture of the Brooklyn music scene for years now, having worked with everyone from TV on the Radio to !!! and Ford & Lopatin. In short, Light Asylum have a lot of great things going for them. Two years ago, they proved that they not only had the look and the attitude, but also the songs to boot. The band's In Tension EP was a very promising start, from the manically catchy lead single "Dark Allies" to the heart-crushing "A Certain Person", both of which suggested there was no reason that Light Asylum couldn't reach Sleigh Bells-levels of notoriety, and not only amongst people who happen to own a copy of The Hunger.
Now that we have the band's first proper full-length, it's with a little disappointment that Jules Winnfield's usually unimpeachable logic proves flawed. Using the same template that springboarded them into the general consciousness, Light Asylum feels trapped by the constraints of the formula they've already established, resulting in a surprisingly resigned, rigid album whose repetitive nature too often registers as glaringly imperfect-- a problem for a band as tightly wound and capable of making explosive music as Light Asylum clearly are. All the elements of the band's personality are most definitely on display here, but are presented in ways that suggest that these songs amount to little more than a collection of very smart demos that ultimately hide behind some clean production and dynamic drum programming. While neglecting to put the focus where it needs to be-- on song craft, tension and release, and jump-out singles-- it's a record that never quite gets off the ground. And though there certainly are plenty of bright patches interwoven throughout, in Light Asylum's case, personality only gets you so far.
A good deal of the record's problems stem from Coviello's musical contributions. Back in 2010, after LCD Soundsystem's final album was released, James Murphy expressed an interest in working with Light Asylum during a chat with a New York Times. "One of the reasons I want to be done with LCD is to be able to produce things like Light Asylum," he said, despite admitting that he thought the production was too "chatty." "It's like a room full of people talking-- there's not enough to focus on." Who knows if Coviello ever read that interview, but if he did, it feels like he misinterpreted what Murphy was trying to say. Light Asylum is indeed a much simpler piece of work, especially when compared to some of the sonic richness that really made In Tension pop. Functional but ultimately flat, Coviello mostly ignores the pop-smart cushioning that a lot of these songs could really benefit from. Tracks like "Hour Fortress" and single "IPC" both lack the necessary climaxes needed for these songs to take off (though the latter does have a really great chorus), and more pointedly aggressive material like "Sins of the Flesh" and "At Will", a missed opportunity at a snarling "fuck you," simply thud along monochromatically. More concerning are the trying, repetitive synth lines that pepper the entire album (see "Angel Tongue"), which often feel more like looped building blocks rather than the evidence of a finished product. The result is often predictably thin.
It's hard not to see what Murphy was getting at, being so unapologetic in his interest in Funchess' pipes, and not the band as a whole. Part of what makes listening to Light Asylum so frustrating is a nagging want to see her talent mobilized to the fullest, to roll up your sleeves and try to make a Light Asylum in your own image. Coviello is wisely trying to put her voice on display by way of simplifying the music, but in turn it leaves Funchess with nowhere to go. She can often prick the hair up on the back of your neck with a simple scream or bellow, but too often she simply sounds stranded, like on the spacious, squiggling "End of Days". It also doesn't help that the lyrical content feels like yet another missed opportunity. Religious imagery and general machine-raging abounds, but when you consider Funchess' own conflicted religious upbringing (she was raised Southern Baptist) and the whole post-New World Order, freedom-fighter thing the group has going on, it feels like she could've used the megaphone to her advantage a bit more. Music like this doesn't always lend itself to being terribly "open," but ignoring coldness for the sake of coolness is a pitfall that this band should be able to recognize.
Light Asylum does contain some easily definable highlights, including the unexpected string of ballads that run through the middle of the record, though "Shallow Tears" is the real take-away. It's a song that, despite essentially being an "Atmosphere" cover, actually sways. It's stirring and big-- if only there were five more just like it. But the album's best song? "A Certain Person", the In Tension highlight which is tacked on here to close the album. The good news is that it gives the track-- a perfect mix of vulnerability and grit-- a second life. But it also means that it further deadens most of the music the preceded it, discordantly suggesting that Light Asylum is by no means a bloodless project, but for the time being, a stalled one.
