Some albums should come with health warnings or a waiver releasing the artist from any liability for the fate of the listener due to unexpected consequences resulting from the work. The aggravation of existing heart conditions, claustrophobia, or night terrors do not commonly result from hearing a new album, but after being confronted with Mother of Curses, the debut D. Rider release, listener safety is the first thing I thought of. These proposed precautionary measures might be a bit drastic, but I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a nervousness in the air any time the album played. But while the record’s ride is a jarring one, it is also challenging and rewarding.
D. Rider, the latest project from former U.S. Maple “low guitarist” Todd Rittman, cornet/keyboard player Andrea Fraught, and saxophonist Noah Tabakin, create songs characterized by consistent, heavy, plodding fuzz bass and large noise doses, all germinating from improvisation using a rudimentary drum kit of crash cymbal, hi-hat, kick, and snare. There is a fascination with our sick world, which, while portraying it as horrid and bordering on obsession, actually becomes infectious — infectious because you feel a little tense and queasy after repeated listens.
Unexpectedly, after a few spins through Mother of Curses, one comes to the baffling realization that, despite the cacophony of traditional and unconventional ‘instruments’ (magic markers, spray cans), the vocals are contrarily clean, concise, and comprehensible. The music suggests that there should be a barrage of distorted screaming or vocodered barfing, but instead everything is discernible. The expounded messages tell tales of contempt for the world, but even when not so explicitly stated, you can sense D. Rider raging against everything from environmental neglect to government futility and misdeeds to our consumer culture. ‘Feel’ is everything on this album.
The mood on Mother of Curses is spectacularly sombre. There is no romanticizing or admission of the world as absurd or ridiculous; it is only cruel and bleak. But the haphazard, fragmented structure allows moments of joy and reflection to escape. Thankfully, some moments -- the ADD drumming and convulsing guitar break in “Body to Body (to Body),” the depressing and almost uplifting horns in “Welcome Out” and “Dear Blocks” respectively, the silly-ass intro to “Touchy” -- show the band having some fun despite their violent display of sound.
The atmosphere is overwhelming, claustrophobic, and genuinely scary at times. The creepy-crawly “Touchy” and “The Marksman,” with its building blanket of tense noise, should have you involuntarily twitching your body in anticipation for something to happen, even if you aren’t sure you will like what it might be. I have been consistently walking away from Mother of Curses with unshakable dark feelings not clearly attributable to the words said and the music played. What is evoked is as important as what is presented.
Demanding, absorbing, and, for better or worse, never feeling like a cohesive album, Mother of Curses is a collection of shocking truths set to stun the senses. Some may find it to be objectionable noise or aimless rebellion, but to the three in D. Rider, it is the only way to adequately confront the abhorrence they see in an era devoid of goodness, a world touched thoroughly by evil.
1. Arranged Marriage to No Toms
2. Dew Claw Don’t Claw
3. Body to Body (to Body)
4. Welcome Out
5. Dear Blocks
6. Touchy
7. The Marksman
8. Misery Whip
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