To judge this album is like putting a rating on weirdness, because that's what makes the record compelling-- a surreal head trip best described by Cerberus Shoal themselves: "Our deepest investigation yet, of all thee swirling symbolisms buried in each our very own psyches', as they clink and clack upon thee others, each and all." That's right, a personal journey with few clear themes and a lot of resolutely unfiltered lyrics, and no matter how many times you spin it you've got that nagging fear that you're not "getting it." And maybe you never will: it ain't your subconscious that belched this up.
Chaiming the Knobblessone continues the direction Cerberus Shoal took on their recent split EPs-- for example, the abstract lyrics and obtuse sound collage of "A Man Who Loved Holes" (from the Ducks and Drakes of Guapo and Cerberus Shoal), or the intricate poetry and large-scale arrangements of "Ding" (from The Vim and Vigour of Alvarius B and Cerberus Shoal). Their wordless improvisations and clear world music influences have shattered, reconfigured and picked up lyrics, culminating in a sprawling album that comes off as some kind of art-damaged radio play.
A male lead-- presumably Chriss Sutherland-- sings and recites most of the lyrics, backed by female voices that breast-beat and wail or sing like the chorus at a hippie repertory theater. The content shows a crazy wit as it switches from songs to dialogues: for example, in the mid-album intermission, "A Paranoid Home Companion", a futuristic interrogator grills a "zek" who has escaped from a communal hivemind. This starts as a sci-fi cliche about individuality versus the collective consciousness, but the Shoal's made-up language and snarky tone bring it to life. And exotic nonsense, holy and profane, drifts through the other epic-length songs-- dig the way "Story #12 from the Invisible Mountain Archive" sticks whack-off jokes and Christmas themes into its surreal adventure story. (And if you want to know what the "remote control brain" looks like, check out the gorgeous hand-painted liner notes.)
The music is an intricate construction, coloring acoustic instruments and trumpet and accordion solos with collaged electronic sounds and grainy samples. Some parts are denser than others-- like the noise pastiche in "Mrs. Shakespeare's Torso"-- but the work progresses like a typical Cerberus Shoal album, in an even amble that rarely blows into a crescendo. Just as they used to be mislabeled as a post-rock band, you can now lump them on the edge of the free-folk movement, with hints of the acoustic madness that's going on one state over in Vermont. This makes it feel stream-of-consciousness even though the arrangements are serious, the extra quirks-- toy percussion and piano, a choppy Spanish guitar-- woven in with care.
There are a few reasons this isn't a masterpiece: some of the sections, like the closer "Scaly Beast vs. Toy Piano", run so long that they start to meander; and end-to-end, the seventy-seven minute runtime includes a lot of wandering. But Chaiming the Knobblessone is too big a mess of ideas and imagination to be taut or "perfect." What you get is an extraordinary triathlon of the id/ego/superego-- an album that's both crazy and calming, where no idea or image is too far-out to fit. It's another milestone for the always-intriguing Cerberus Shoal.
