Feb 10, 2004 16:28
Scarling. - Sweet Heart Dealer
This month sees the release of highly anticipated ‘Sweet Heart Dealer’ by trip-pop, noise-rock outfit Scarling. A honey jar of a record filled with seven tracks and seven ditty sins juxtaposed with the more composite sound of surging textures, distorted guitars and vocals that teeter from the serene to the schizophrenic.
It doesn’t aim to hook you with a simplistic melody or steal your heart with a single kiss. The sound of Scarling slays you with a thousand kisses over fastened eyelids. The sensation renders your organs weightless to float and crash with the waves of guitars as the distortion and viscid rhythms seep into your ears and work their way under your skin. By the end of the record not only are you obsessed, but also your body becomes the next work of art in Gunther Von Hagen’s ‘Plastination’. Remember the process in which corpses are preserved by replacing all the fluids of the body with synthetic materials? Well the emotion that is bound to this record is so beautiful and overwhelming that you almost feel drained of anything real.
Just as the daring von Hagen pioneered the idea of solidifying our existence for eternity through the inspirations of two anatomical artists of the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci and Andreas Vesal by then taking us closer to the prime inspiration and making it his own,
Scarling. are our own dear daring artists. They portray their influences and inspirations from artistic creations that range from aura to canvas whilst painting their own unique picture, spilling their blood to bring us a mark of something fresh and original, like the very first scar to musically mark the newborn year of 2004.
’Sweet Heart Dealer’ begins with ‘The Last Day I Was Happy’, our first taste of the expected feedback that bleeds into all familiar chugging guitars and teasing of the cymbals. The vocals creep in sexy but sullen, distinct yet melded to the coil of hypnotic distortion. The guitars and drumbeat grows, thick, weighty and brooding, bordering on bludgeoning. In this track alone Jessicka’s voice stirs comparisons in my head, likening her to PJ Harvey circa ‘To Bring You My Love’ (ever, ever-so-slightly). It is unconsciously erotic, a deep purple and blue running down your throat like liqueur before bursting into hot screams and a catchy chorus that owns your lips and gives you vertigo.
Following, is the previous single release ‘Band Aid Covers The Bullet Hole’, a dreamy skip through surreal fields of bloated riffs and kids with broken teeth from a sweet melody. It’s got a chorus that sticks in your mind like a fly caught in a web. Full of intellect contrasted with a seemingly perverse childlike innocence. ‘Crispin Glover’ swirls severe melancholy in to a dense 3 minutes and eighteen seconds of powerful lyricism and percussive airiness. Intention absent, the way it makes me feel is being heartbroken on a breezy summer’s day.
‘Alexander The Burn Victim’ resides in the same melancholia. The guitars soar and dive with such grandeur, that along with Jessicka’s melting voice and incisive whispers, it almost chokes a tear from your eye. The gravity of this song pulls me down to a place where I haven’t been since the nineties, alone in my room, washed with a heavy gaze. It is definitely one of the standout tracks, notably due to its beautiful raining chorus. It ends with the convulsion of guitars and a searing silence. I’m in love.
‘Baby Dracula’ (being another personal favourite) is up next, beginning with a potent and darkening guitar rhythm that slithers higher and lower with a lightly sinister effect before jumping into yet another aural vortex that finds itself to be upbeat and melodic. The song revels in more texture, crawling between Jessicka’s vocals and leery rhythm, the thriving chorus and the uttering of the title that is gravely seductive.
’Black Horse Riding Star’ gallops in like a bolt out of the blue, with its menacing intro and rage in its eyes. A standout track on ‘Sweet Heart Dealer’ but for a completely different reason altogether. Jessicka teases your ears with a number of ‘fuck you’-s, over a driving heavy pouncing bass line and pounding drums as well as auralgasmic repetition of “so high and you can’t feel it” that deserves to be sweated out along with the band. If you hadn’t heard this song before then getting to this track on the record really would have struck you down. It is a fever and “there is no recovery”. Boiling from spoken-word and ethereal backdrops to piercing no-holds-barred screams.
Lastly but by no means least, ‘Can’t (Halloween Valentine) is the album’s final reverie of beauty. Both the tide of the music and Jessicka’s glass singing conjures something that I can only call over seven minutes of graceful nausea. There’s no disgust only butterflies. “No I’m not this crazy/ And I Can’t have fun/ Makes me feel like nothing/ Am I just that dumb”…
You will feel anything but nothing.
Plato once said “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back”.
Scarling. should feel accomplished as ‘Sweet Heart Dealer’ certainly has my heart.