It's too bad that the final Clockcleaner record, 2010's Auf Wiedersehen, was so short and so overlooked, because it was a bit of a revelation. Over four songs, the Philly band's dark noise-rock, which had echoed bands like the Birthday Party, Butthole Surfers, and Killdozer, moved into catchier territory with surprising ease. Particularly impressive was singer John Sharkey III's shift to a more melodic bellow. He had hinted at this before, but his Ian Curtis-ish baritone seemed bigger and bolder.
Sharkey's solo project, Puerto Rico Flowers, creeps a couple of steps further from Clockcleaner, trading that band's guitar spew for soaring synths and big bass lines, and replacing punk speed with lurching mid-tempos. In the process, Sharkey approaches the dramatic 1980s goth-pop of Bauhaus, the Cure, and Depeche Mode. (The man himself says PRF "has more in common with Journey than any fucking cold wave band," but his hilarious interviews always have to be taken with a pound of salt). *7'*s best song, "3 Sisters", could pass for a cover of the Cure's "Fascination Street", borrowing that song's stair-climbing bass and rolling drumbeat. But the pulse is insistent, and Sharkey's vocals (as well as his dreamy lyrics, a contrast to Clockcleaner's brutal verses) are entrancing, helping the tune avoid full-on mimicry through sheer force of will.
That's actually a fair way to describe the rest of 7. Sharkey leans hard into all seven tracks-- many of which march beyond the six-minute mark-- and fills them with compelling torque that only hard-earned musical muscles can muster. So while every moment sits squarely in goth-pop mode, and each song could be compared pretty quickly to a band that was in its prime 25 years ago, Sharkey never lets you forget he's behind the wheel. The catch is you have to like the way he drives and the retro roads he's traversing. It's hard to imagine 7 grabbing anyone who doesn't dig both.
Still, it's easy to get caught by Sharkey's hooks, especially during the final three cuts, a kind of enchanting mini-suite. The heavy float of "Freezing Tears"-- "Why am I freezing?" Sharkey sings like Ian Curtis in ballad mode-- curves into the punching "Keep Me Around", then cascades into the beat-less closer "After the Weekend". That final track is the kind that lots of 80s records ended with-- a mopey meditation, complete with sad piano, that carries the album off into the fog. It's a nice fog to get lost in, but hopefully Sharkey will return with something less drenched in the past next time around.
