Against The Day, drawing its inspiration and title from the most recent Thomas Pynchon novel, also clearly shares a few other things with the book, primarily a certain indigestibility; which is to say, Land of Kush's five-song suite, which totals an hour in length, feels densely packed in a similar manner to that of a 1,085-page book. Densely packed is another good way of describing the two works: both novel and album share a shambling, stoned tone, manic, formal, exotic and mannered, alternately and simultaneously. Tone, however, is where the similarities end.
Pynchon's writing, for all of its delirious nonsensicality, retains a healthy amount of absurdity and bawdy humor. The music created by Sam Shalabi, Land of Kush's avant-garde band leader, maintains an air of deathly seriousness, which creates feelings far different from those elicited by Pynchon. Maybe it's futile to attempt a comparison between a book and an album, but considering the book's role as openly acknowledged inspiration, it certainly isn't unfair. Against The Day, the album, lacks a certain feral, physical verve. Land of Kush provides us plenty of whimsy (of a dry, rigid sort), but little playfulness. There are no musical Chums of Chance on this album, no aeronauts, bomb-building anarchists, or partially anthropomorphized dogs within these songs.
Against The Day sounds organic enough, yet frequently and oddly lifeless. The avant-Middle-Eastern-jazz-post rock mélange gels well, but still comes across as something rehearsed and reproducible, though neither lean nor polished enough. Perhaps polish would be beside the point when drawing inspiration from as dusty feeling a book as Against The Day. When the band finds the right groove — like the dizzying, feverish tail end of "Iceland Spar," or the urgent gallop of the title track — Against The Day feels quite satisfying and nourishing. The songs that don't come together, however — like the slinky, harem get-down of "Bilocations" — feel disappointing, more for their near success than any outright failure. "Bilocations," in particular, has a healthy sense of swagger and a strong pulse, which is unfortunately sapped by Molly Sweeney’s overly arch singing. That singing, like much of Against The Day, comes across as a little too mundane, a little too arid, for its own good. The contrast between the instrumentals and the vocals on the album lends it a feeling of inconsistency.
Lack of consistency, upon further consideration, might be the strongest link between Land of Kush and Pynchon. The unsuccessful moments do not negate the satisfaction derived from the moments that do work. Against The Day, in both forms, is spotty, amusing, frustrating, chunky, and enjoyably flawed.
1. The Light Over The Ranges
2. Iceland Spur
3. Bilocations
4. Against The Day
5. Rue du Départ
More about: Land Of Kush
