Description
Theres post-punk in here that angularness thats the rage with operators too cool for things like smelling nice and having a job. Icarus Line will attract these couture ghouls, no question. But Penance Soiree might also have true and valorous mass appeal, a shelf life past its buzz as an export from the land of inky black hair styles. Dont doubt it: Icarus Line are crazy. But listen to that melodic preen in Spike Island, and the way its guitars roar and teeter for an unavoidable groove this isnt the inaccessible intellectualism of Mars Volta, or Liars distempered noise quackery. No, Icarus Line are uniters, not dividers. Even when On the Lash loses interest in its cracked psychedelia and rides Cardamones reverbed wail into a pile of ridiculous static muck, it reengages with fresh crackling fury. I can feeeeeeeel it, he screams over the pound, and its better than hearing Van Halen for the very first time. The rest of Soiree is no slouch, either, cleverly weaving between the cones of insularity and throbbing accessibility. Getting Bright at Night is nine minutes of Karl Wallinger binging on old 4AD records, the beat-damaged Caviar invites the world to its druggy key party, and Virgin Velcro tears a hole in the disco ball to find strutting heavy metal inside. As serious as things get on Penance Soiree (and the choppy Spit On gets pretty serious), theres the happily nagging notion that Icarus Line just want to entertain, and that theyre damn good at it. The notion pays off in the last two minutes.
Party the Baby Off, behind all that squelch and trebly production, is just T. Rex classic rock with a message for the kids: Tonight, take off all your clothes. Icarus Line pops new heartthrobs. Allmusic.
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