Through all her varied disguises, from the Geraldine Fibbers to Ethyl Meatplow and back, Carla Bozulich's barbed voice has always been an instantly recognizable instrument. With her versatile project Evangelista, she seems at last to have found its ideal vehicle. In Animal Tongue is the latest album under the Evangelista name, and hearing it can feel like watching a veteran character actress with an expertise for perfecting new accents finally sink her teeth into a meaty, recurring role. Though In Animal Tongue stills draws on many of the same elements that have informed her previous work (blues, industrial noise, spoken word) they have here been distilled ever further down to a murky, brooding essence.
Never an especially conventional band to begin with, Evangelista have been gradually edging away from standard rock textures. Whereas previous albums Hello, Voyager and Prince of Truth contained sudden moments of loud metallic catharsis, In Animal Tongue is almost entirely percussion-less and frequently arrhythmic. Bozulich is joined once again by bassist Tara Barnes and arranger/multi-instrumentalist Dominic Cramp, who provide a necessary degree of continuity, but there is something essentially solitary and lonesome about Evangelista's music. With her lyrics filled with references to blood, natural danger, and combat, Bozulich gives In Animal Tongue the impression of a wild animal crouched ominously in a darkened corner, waiting patiently for the opportunity to strike.
From a sonic standpoint, Evangelista's most natural ancestor is the noisier work of Tom Waits circa Bone Machine or The Black Rider. Unlike Waits, however, Bozulich makes no use of either grand, weepy melodies or any vestige of wry humor. Indeed the semi-spoken whispers and mutters of such tracks as "Black Jesus" or "Die Alone" can seem to lack any sense of movement, with Bozulich’s bleak and emotive vocals ("My body has failed me on this cold night, and I'll die by myself in the dark") destined to circle endlessly through the shadowy wilderness.
After a point this lightless gloom can get a tad oppressive, but Evangelista are able to leaven the mood somewhat through consistently inventive instrumentation. The album's most percussive track, "Hands of Leather", is driven by guitar and handclaps, and though its lyrics might easily be about a boxing match, the impact is that of accidentally stumbling onto an ancient forest ritual. On "Tunnel to the Stars", the rhythms drop away to be replaced by a churning string quartet, composed by Dominic Cramp, with Bozulich's distorted vocals riding queasily over the din.
Most arresting of all might be the closing piece, "Hatching". On this track Bozulich's voice makes the briefest of cameos, while the rest of group shudders through what could be an obscure horror-film score. It is a sound that is not a million miles away from the haunted, sample-based soundtracks of Demdike Stare, blending live instrumentation with Dominic Cramp's cut-and-paste arrangement, and one that suggests that Evangelista should continue to find ways to cut new paths through the darkness.
