It’s debatable whether a record should be judged against a band’s previous work, let alone against one previous song. But perhaps the most disappointing flaw of Arbouretum’s second LP is the absence of a cut that rages quite as long or breaks as hard as “The Rise” did on Rites of Uncovering. The 11-plus-minute exploration of big harmonies and fancy feedback is the debut’s highlight, but there’s nothing quite as bold this time around. Sure, Song of the Pearl is tighter, smarter, and more meticulous than the previous full-length, but it's also a touch less raw and calmly tempered by its maturity.
Fans of straightforward blues-oriented rock likely won’t mind as much as the psychedelically inclined. While there is plenty of fuzz and hum dispersed across solid riffs and slick licks, the tracks on Rites never seem to depart for a surprising trip. “Infinite Corridors” is ostensibly this album’s freak-out, and, while weird, prior history indicates that it never really wigs out the way it could. To be fair, the gas left in the tank is burned up by the subsequent “The Midnight Cry,” where an explosion of furious kick-drumming works into the grungy chuk-chuk-chuk-chuk of a punk song replete with a guitar solo that mocks up a bagpipe’s tonality.
The album pinnacle is opener “False Spring,” a thorough musical expression that imparts an understanding of Arbouretum’s collective ability. The dueling guitar solo cuts itself cleanly from the verse, and then plays out like a track meet; one sprinter takes the lead aggressively out of the blocks, only to see his advantage give way to a lingering rival at the first turn. He paces the leader on the second leg, but ultimately sputters like a key in the ignition, allowing his competitor to charge far ahead for the finish line. After a quick breather, he takes a victory lap, shredding through the crowd’s percussion, his laurel wreath suggested by a frenzied tambourine.
Unfortunately, the track may be too aptly named; after the opening kick, other climaxes are not so out-of-breath, even seemingly reserved. A lead guitarist of David Heumann’s caliber should be free to roam, but just a track deeper and he’s relegated to window-dressing on the low slunk of “Another Hiding Place”, adding a flourish or accent here or there, but never asserting his movement. His conformity isn’t a total loss; by staying with the pack he rubs up closer with guitarist Steve Strohmeier, a recent addition to the group by way of their split-EP release Kale. Strohmeier is a more than adequate complement to Heumann and certainly adds another dimension for the group. But that wrinkle comes at the loss of some dynamic; the duo tends to weave together rather than push off against the other.
Song of the Pearl, then, is well-executed, but stuck in the same gear, especially in its middle. Heumann has surrounded himself with very talented players, and as an ensemble they are tight, tied together by the bombastic percussion of Daniel Franz. And perhaps the artists believed that wandering head-on into stoner rockdom might be a bit redundant. They may have been right, but while the terser arrangements are often clever and always fine-tuned, the group never seems to become more than the sum of its parts. Toss in forgettable lyrics, and Song of the Pearl doesn't quite push any particular button hard enough to fully satisfy, despite its brilliance.
1. False Spring
2. Another Hiding Place
3. Down by the Fall Line
4. Song of the Pearl
5. Thin Dominion
6. Infinite Corridors
7. The Midnight Cry
8. Tomorrow is a Long Time