"Intro" might not be the most creative title for a first track, but it's nonetheless a promising album opener: although its just-over-a-minute runtime gives the song little room to develop, Paik still find time to create a foreboding bed of feedback and pedal-abetted smoke and mirrors. The tones are thick, rich, multihued, the kind of post-rock bullion that constantly evades lesser groups like Mono and Pelican. And what's more, a muffled horn squawks into the void, hinting that the non-rock influences that have been fermenting in the band's record collections will finally voice themselves on a Paik album.
Adding a little free jazz or Eno-esque soundscaping or Afrobeat or whatever would be the next logical step for a band like Paik, after all. Even in their formative years, these Michigan space-rockers never demonstrated the kind of tunnel vision that so often inhibits woozy instrumental rock outfits, and their previous album, 2004's Satin Black, stretched guitar rock to its very breaking point, getting more mileage than seemed feasible from the standard guitar/bass/drums setup and coming closer to Shieldsian bliss than any recording of recent vintage. And given that Paik are the sort of band who make wonderfully eclectic contributions to Dusted's "Listed" column and travel in the same circles as Windy and Carl, Bardo Pond, and other rock groups who constantly look beyond rock for inspiration, genre-melting seems like the most obvious way for them to expand upon Satin Black. And for a minute and fifteen seconds, it seems like Monster of the Absolute will indeed be a space for fusion and barrier-crashing.
Those hopes are dashed, however, when "Phantoms," the second track, begins. Sounding more like a warped lo-fi Flying Saucer Attack outtake than the crushing rock at which the group has excelled in the past, "Phantoms" is pleasant enough but seems stuck somewhere around 1997. Anyone who's ever worked at a college radio station has heard enough songs like it to predict its every turn. An ear for color and depth still appear to be hardwired into the guitarists' DNA, but alluring textures lose their charms in such regressive song forms.
"Snake Face" fares much better, building more momentum and featuring some cagey percussion. Like the tunes from My Bloody Valentine's Glider EP, this song plays around with rhythm enough that it borders on danceable ”” a quality sadly lacking in the remainder of the tracks. Much of Monster's back half idles in staid Mogwai crash/burn patterns and pulseless drumming. While still superior to similar songs from less polished musicians, this record's lackluster numbers feel constipated, anxious, generally stuck in a holding pattern ”” I can almost see the band grimacing as they play, as if to say, "Hey, we know these aren't the jammingest jams we could possibly jam, but we can't figure out where else to go!" Here's hoping they find more direction next time around.
1. Intro
2. Phantoms
3. Snake Face
4. October
5. Monster of the Absolute
6. Contessa
7. Outro