Of all the bands in the ever-propagating petri dish that is Saddle Creek, Broken Spindles is arguably the most challenging. As Broken Spindles, Faint bassist Joel Petersen follows the tangent from his initial band's sepulchral new wave sound, coating it with a thick industrial sludge and fractured IDM. Nihilistic lyrics complete the equation, and Petersen's absolutely soulless delivery solidifies his status as Saddle Creek's answer to Trent Reznor. However, while the Faint were one of the main progenitors for today's new wave reincarnation, Broken Spindles merely rehashes staples of the not-so-distant past (NIN, Prodigy) with one eye on today's trendier acts (Kid 606, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone), the latter of which appearing too frequently for comfort on Inside/Absent.
Petersen further dissociates himself from the Faint on his third album, as a first listen reveals the lack of guitar and drum parts, with a second revealing there ain't much bass left either. Horror movie piano lines team with ubiquitous blips and bleeps to constitute most of the sonic landscape here, mirroring the Petersen's stark, dehumanized vocals. On instrumental opener "Inward", Petersen plays the role of musician gone mad a bit too convincingly, steering through unstable fugues and OCD key pounding. Brief vignettes "Desaturated" and "Valentine" follow suit, sounding like xeroxed continuations.
Of course, you're probably not interested in instrumentation, you just wanna hear about the intimate scene acted out by those weird dolls on the album cover. As part three of Broken Spindles' "Trapped in the Closet"-esque series, Petersen tackles a topic ripe with disillusionment and dismay--love and relationships. "Burn My Body" features the album's lone guitar, showcasing the same angular riffs that makes the Faint's early material worth revisiting. Unfortunately, Petersen's masochistic lyrics reminds us why we should focus strictly on the music: "Burn my body/ I'm taking up space/ Burn and mix me with plaster or paint." The misanthropic sap thickens on humming laptop anti-ballad "Anniversary", with Petersen pining "Counting our anniversaries/ Like they're a record of worth" over a minimalist arrangement.
Although such bleak production means an over-emphasis on the gauche lyrics, it amplifies Petersen's bread and butter--creating an utterly depressing, spirit-sucking atmosphere. Despite the malaise, Petersen still proves somewhat dynamic--even playful at times--on the album's catchier numbers. "Please Don't Remember This" shares The Downward Spiral's demented take on dance music while "The Distance Is Nearsighted" recalls Cex's droning vocals and skittish beats. Although not entirely original or groundbreaking, Petersen molds a more definite sound for Broken Spindles, one that's not simply electro-Faint or NIN lite. Problem is, now that Broken Spindles is legit, what's next? Inside/Absent is a nice listen, but doesn't hint at anything greater to come-- a frustrating flaw for an album already unexcited with itself.
