Album Review: Matthew Dear - Beams

Matthew Dear
Beams
Rating: Woof Daddy

Matthew Dear doesn't stay in one place very long. From his debut Leave Luck To Heaven which plundered the halls of micro-house, Asa Breed's excursions into more vocally led pop, to Black City's dark journey into sleazy funk, each release has progressed and adapted from what went before, morphing into something new yet unmistakably Matthew Dear. New record Beams doesn't necessarily veer too far from Black City's darker tone, but reveals a definite change in influence, leaning heavily on Talking Heads' Fear Of Music/Remain In Light period and Bowie's Thin White Duke era. There is a lot of stiff, robotic funk mixed in with loose free form jams that give the record a strange, off-kilter feel, but somehow manages to always stay on track. Beams is a dense record, featuring lots of percussive elements, thick bass lines, warm washes of analog synths, and the love-it-or-hate-it deep, monotone vocals of Dear. There is an anxious feeling that permeates the record, but unlike Black City's overt paranoia, the warmer nature of Beams keeps you further on edge as the record progresses.

"Her Fantasy" opens things up with a barrage of bird calls and whistles leaning into a thumping kick drum beat, percussive elements added in broad strokes, as waves of analog synths crest and fall. Dear's voice commands over everything, robotically intoning the lyrics as the music swells around him.



Slick beats and cramp inducing bass lines drive the serious funk of "Earthforms" as spiky shards of guitar snake in and out of the rhythms.



Dear really focuses on beats and textures this go around, taking his Brian Eno fixation to heart, trying new ways to mix his sound. From the fractured art-funk of "Up & Out" which adds various loops and samples back and forth into a heady froth,



the ping ponging, cut up samples and nervous energy of "Fighting Is Futile,"



to the inviting calm and warmth of analog burbles of "Do The Right Thing,"



there is a meaning and purpose to where every note goes; nothing superfluous or grating.

But Beams is not all about driving beats, Dear takes moments of introspection to add more thoughtful tracks as contrast. Atmospheric tracks like the haunting "Shake Me" featuring ghostly guitars over burbling electronics,



closing track "Temptation"'s rising and falling clouds of synths, and the drone-funk of "Ahead of Myself" show Dear at the height of his powers of sound collage.



But the focus is always on the groove on Beams, and there are no shortages of icy-Bowie funk running through this record ("Get The Rhyme Right"), blasts of edgy new wave ("Overtime"), and murky Moroder-esque synth pop ("Headcage") that keep the record moving. The only drawback is that Dear's voice is not the most expressive of instruments, primarily staying the course with his low baritone/bass, keeping things arch and impassive. I can see where some people would not like it over the course of the record, but for me, it fits well with the more stiff rhythms.

Beams was a surprise for me, because after the brilliant gloominess of Black City I wasn't quite sure where Dear would venture next. I love mid-period Talking Heads, Bowie's R&B/funk experiments, and Eno's sonic explorations, so the fact Dear allowed all those influences to come to the surface was intoxicating. Beams can almost be too dense and overpowering at times, so it does takes several listens to get acclimated to his world; but it is a fascinating and rewarding one.

Rating Scale:

Chilfos: masterpiece; coolest thing I've heard in ages.

Woof Daddy: excellent; just a hair away from being a masterpiece.

Grrrr: very good; will definitely be considered for my top releases of the year.

Yeah Daddy Make Me Want It: good; definitely invites further listens and piques one's interest for more material.

Meh: not horrible, but certainly not great; could have either been polished, trimmed, or re-thought.

Jeez Lady: what the hell happened? Just plain bad. They should hang their heads in shame and be forced to listen to Lady Gaga ad nauseam as penance.

Tragicistani: so bad, armed villagers with pitchforks and torches should run the artist out of the country for inflicting this abomination on the human race.