Anyone familiar with the drumming of Hella's Zach Hill-- a relentless, octopus-limbed style that has earned him three different gear-endorsement deals-- might expect his solo debut to be a one-man parade of kick-drum barrages and cascading toms. And though he employs many collaborators on Astrological Straits (including members of No Age, LCD Soundsystem, and his Hella colleagues), the album can feel like one endless drum solo. Hill's torrential beats roll over everything else-- even his own voice and guitar-- puncturing each song like bullets fired into a balloon.
Whether that's good or bad depends on your tolerance for skull-crushing polyrhythms. But even the most gun-shy listener should find something to dig in Hill's frantic beat-marathons. At its best, Astrological Straits is a mashup of Liars tribalism, Boredoms bombast, Smell-scene art-punk, Lightning Bolt repeti-grooves, and Frank Zappa prog-overload. All this sonic hyperactivity can be exhausting, and Hill's fondness for effects, especially in his Vocoder-ish vocals, makes some tracks robotic, more like exercises than songs. Take "Uhuru", a spastic drum workout that's almost all muscle. If Guitar Center had a weight room, "Uhuru" could be its muzak.
But for every "Uhuru", there are tracks filled with angled melody and odd sonic invention, creating more than the sum of their multiple drum parts. The best example is the three-song stretch that precedes "Uhuru". "Hindsight Is Nowhere" sprints around the stereo spectrum like a HEALTH song in a hall of mirrors, with Hill declaring "You can twist the arm of fate/ It will bend but it won't break" in semi-Angus Andrew moan. The next two songs, "Ummer" and "Stoic Logic", feature Dean Spunt and Randy Randall of No Age, and they're the album's most melodic, with simpler rhythms and sparkling guitar. As Hill chants imperatives-- "cut lines in your palms with the night like you own it"-- dreams of an expanded No Age with Spunt on guitar and Hill on drums are irresistible.
The rest of Astrological Straits probably won't inspire dreams, but its pummeling energy might at least get you seeing stars. Even when Hill makes questionable moves, like blurting clichés on opener "Iambic Strays" ("That's my name/ Don't wear it out") or ending with an indulgent prog-metal blast featuring Primus' Les Claypool on bass, his music exudes a geeky charm. And his final gambit, a bonus one-track disc, is a total winner. After a spoken intro by Marnie Stern, "Necromancer" delivers 30 minutes of high-level free-jazz in duo with Brooklyn pianist Marco Benevento. Time to dream again: Here's a vote for Hill to move to New York and start playing jazz. His unstoppable drumming would surely fit in well with that city's vibrant improv scene.
