There's a jolt at the start of Sugarland, the 2009 debut full-length by Brooklyn duo Talk Normal. Its boldly titled opener, "Hot Song", begins with a hard blast of test-tone drone, then adds a pounding metal-can beat. This attention-getting salvo feels like a statement of purpose, and indeed what follows is just as brash and urgent-- a muscular, locked-in brand of noise-rock that guitarist/bassist Sarah Register and drummer Andrya Ambro quickly turned into a signature.
Sunshine, the pair's follow-up to Sugarland, starts with less of a bang-- opener "Lone General" announces itself with a fizzle of feedback and a subdued drum roll. But once Register's chopping chords coax aggression from Ambro's percussion, and the pair trade war cries ("Fa-fa-fire now!," "Ch-ch-charge boys!"), it's clear Talk Normal's intensity hasn't subsided. If anything, Sunshine cranks things up a notch. Sugarland's peaks might have reached higher, but the churning, relentless Sunshine keeps me pinned to the edge of my seat longer.
That's especially impressive given that none of the album's nine songs are especially fast, loud, or climactic. Eschewing easy crescendos and flashy turns, Talk Normal build tension strictly from momentum. Register and Ambro persistently dole out rigorous beats, sheets of guitar, and woven singing until what began as a orderly march feels like headlong rush. Think of Sunshine as a post-punk workout: The point isn't how much sonic weight the pair can lift, but how many reps they can do. And quite often the hard work pays off in a kind of musical runner's high.
That workout feel extends into Sunshine's lyrics, which come off as cheers or chants, as if Register and Ambro are pushing each other to surpass personal bests. The words are often plain, sometimes even blank or banal. But there's a kinetic force to Talk Normal's call-and-response repetition that gives a weight beyond meaning. So when Register stutters, "hell no," during the title track, or Ambro scolds, "Chew your food 30 times/ Eat and die and pay on time," in "Hot Water Burns", their delivery makes you reconsider what those colloquialisms mean. It helps that the words rhyme with the sounds, filling in rhythms and dotting lines with staccato. Take "XO", which is all energy and motion, with blurts of "bye bye bye" and "love love love" catching fire with Ambro's inclining beat.
Inclines, weight, energy-- all these adjectives suggest that Sunshine can be exhausting. And it can, but in the way stretching muscles and sweating buckets helps clear your mind and rid you of toxins. Not every song holds an epiphany-- some are just easily enjoyable, like the slow-swinging "Bad Date" or the grunge-like "Shot This Time"-- but the potential's always there. On the album's standout, "Baby, Your Heart's Too Big", potential and actual fuse, simultaneously offering something to latch onto and look forward to. "Your heart's too big, his arms too long, your minds too bright, our pulse so strong," sings Register, nicely capturing the way Sunshine turns simple words and sounds into something larger.
