A-Frames foresee the end of the world, and they seem to relish it. On "Black Forest II", drummer/vocalist Lars Finberg enumerates Armageddon's casualties with a hint of contented zeal: "No people, no trucks, no cars/ No movies, no TV stars/ Humanity is erased/ Black Forest left in its place." Sure, it's a bit heavy-handed, but musically they keep it short and sweet: The best of Black Forest's 14 tracks are usually a done deal 'ere the two-minute bell strikes.
Actually, the album would be better if it, too, was kept on the short side. Like fellow dystopia-dwellers Liars and Fire Show, A-Frames prefer a sustained din to an expansive roar. Black Forest tends to drone, which is okay when A-Frames remember to bring the riffs. Among the songs that include a melodic counterpoint to the band's combination of jaundiced electronics and sludgy bass is "Experiment", which waits for the pitch then slugs it into the bleachers with a flick-of-the-wrist guitar hook. "Galena" pounds a see-sawing bass/drums vamp before breaking form to deliver a brusque but satisfying chorus. Throughout its exciting yet repetitive first half, such well-placed, melodious turnabouts are Black Forest's saving grace-- they affirm the album's aesthetic by temporarily breaking with it.
Those breaks aren't as prevalent on the LP's brooding second side. Starting with "Quantum Mechanics", the album sounds like an undeveloped skeleton of its first half. "Memoranda" is muted, stiff, and lacks the gorilla low-end that buttresses even the band's weakest numbers. "Negative" carries far too much bass racket and comes off like malcontent Icarus Line. On Side B, only "My Teacher"-- with its tick-tock bass line, mottled spoken-word lyrics, and almost-dub clicks and rolls-- interrupts the clangor. "Age of Progress"-- the second set's strongest track-- follows, and it's both the dankest, dirtiest thing A-Frames have ever recorded and an interesting sound for them to explore in the future.
At their best, A-Frames evoke a half-digested Pop Group. (They spared themselves the other half to leave room for melody.) This approach could take off if the band keeps sight of the details and don't let its songs linger. But here A-Frames teeter on the line between consistency and monotony, falling mostly on the former side-- their endless doomsaying can grow tiresome but more often it's fun to play along. Even perdition can seem appealing when it's paired with a killer hook or two.
