The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-La-La Band
Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward
[Constellation; 2001]
Rating: 7.7
Some things in life are inevitable. According to my friend Joel Bogorad, even
Bogorad is inevitable. Nothing Bogorad says or does is a matter of his choice,
and nothing he will do can be altered or prevented. Bogorad's final chapter is
already written, even though he has yet to find out the ending. Believe Bogorad,
and you share the same fate. After all, Bogorad is a determinist-- he believes
that every choice he makes is determined by prior experiences, dating back to
before his birth. Because he can do nothing to change those experiences, he has
absolutely no choice in his future. It will happen, and he won't have a thing to
do with it. How Bogorad sleeps, I don't know.
Silver Mt. Zion are likewise pledged to the inevitable. According to members of
the Canadian collective, the demise of humanity is as inevitable as Bogorad
himself. Globalization, the prison industrial complex and "terminal
economies of blood," are processes and entities on an irreversible course toward
ruin. Efrim, Sophie, Thierry, Beckie, Ian and Jessica have no illusions of
changing fate; they simply aim for virtue.
The music of Silver Mt. Zion embodies that worldview. They're clearly not
competing for listeners. If they are, they're doing everything wrong-- no catchy
melodies, no hooks, no guitar solos, no cleavage. And I dare you to mass produce
their packaging (all cardboard, a full page of anti-capitalist calligraphy, and,
oh yeah, a picture of an old guy trying to revive a dead person. Nice). No, the
goal is not popular stardom, or even acceptance. Rather, it's musical integrity;
to create gorgeous music without regard for convention. Furthermore, as fans of
Silver Mt. Zion (and their foster-parents, Godspeed You Black Emperor!) have
come to appreciate, their sullen, brooding arrangements could do as much to
communicate the ruin of humanity as ten Efrim interviews.
Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward is a regally ambitious album,
even by this band's standards. Even so, you wouldn't know it from the first two
tracks. The opening composition, "Sisters! Brothers! Small Boats are Falling
from the Sky!" is updated chamber music, opening with a percussive echo that
gives way to a simple, four-note string arrangement. Both yield as a mournful
piano melody enters, complemented by chamber strings and the faint buzz-wail of
manipulated tape. The song builds strength, but never reaches crescendo, leaving
the listener to cope with unresolved sadness. "This Gentle Hearts Like Shot
Bird's Fallen" employs similar dynamics, moving from the concocted chirps and
echoes to a disquieted string theme.
The problem in striving for high art is that sometimes pretentiousness, like
Bogorad, is also inevitable. The members of Silver Mt. Zion have always flirted
with pretentiousness, but in most cases, they've remained clearly on the side of
profundity. Unfortunately, the flirting on prior albums and projects has
developed into a full-borne crush. For example, the monologue on "Built Then
Burnt (Hurrah! Hurrah!)" is unbearably amateurish, delivered by either a bad
child actor, or a bad adult actor doing a child's voice. As bad as the monologue
is, the swarm of whiny, multi-tracked voices on the tense, grating "Take These
Hands and Throw Them in the River" is worse. "Worse," as in, it reminded me of
the Scorpions (yes, those Scorpions). The vocals on this track-- performed by
the band's Constellation Records labelmate Frankie Sparo-- aren't far removed
from the gritty operatics of front-Scorpion Klaus Meine, and they're delivered
with all the false melodrama of Queensryche.
After this, however, Silver Mt. Zion returns to form, following the compellingly
distraught "Could've Moved Mountains" with the soundtrack-ish (albeit slightly
boring) "Tho You Are Gone I Still Often Walk w/You." The most dynamic selection
on Born into Trouble, and its only real rock number, is "C'mon Come On
(Loose an Endless Longing)," which-- after building into noise-- fades into
formless ambience, then returns to rock with a completely indulgent and entirely
satisfying overblown full-band catharsis. The closing number stands out, as well,
because it's actually a "song," and because it isn't nearly as depressing as the
rest of the album. But they do sing about guns, cancer, barricades, "losing your
way," and shit like that, so what do I know? It sounds kind of pretty.
I'll stand by this band-- they're still too good to be true. But, like the rest
of us ignorant, inevitable human beings, Silver Mt. Zion occasionally slips.
Here, the slips are noticeable, and the formula wears a little thin, but for the
most part, Born into Trouble remains an intense and engaging album.
-Brad Haywood, November 2nd, 2001