The Secret Machines
Secret Machines (TSM)
By A. Rice
Published: October 9th, 2008 | 9:00am
"Now you’re gone, it’s too late / The world is starting to spin.” The nostalgic lexis of Brandon Curtis’ haunting lyrical prowess in “Now You’re Gone” divulges into layers of abstract romanticism and explores the fervor often associated with time-stopping encounters. The Secret Machines have come full circle, boasting a self-titled release on their own DIY label (TSM Recordings) with new, heavily experimental lead guitarist Phil Karnats in tow. Guitar gap filled, the band deemed an album title unnecessary. Even sans other-brother Curtis, they’re still the Secret Machines; Benjamin Curtis left the band in early 2007 to focus on his side project, School Of Seven Bells.
Their third full-length to date, the New York–based trilogy seems complete — sounding more brooding than ever. The band’s new third element probes into otherworldly licks that saturate atmosphere and generate a seemingly flawless transition for the band. “He’s kind of a dark guy,” Curtis revealed about his longtime friend Karnats on a dismal and rainy Manhattan afternoon, “but that was always the direction we were headed.” Curtis may feel akin to gloomy weather, but his music is intent on taking an uplifting and positive tone. “The world is in a dark place right now,” Curtis said, “so what we want is to make people more aware of it — without being cynical.”
These days, it’s hard not to be political. The space rock single “Atomic Heels” is fueled by electro avant-garde psychedelia, and already has a video in the works. Not since David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” have we heard something such as “I Never Thought To Ask” transcend from sub Area 51-type counterculture to mainstream. “Last Believer, Drop Dead” launches Faust arpeggios reminiscent of the Machines debut, Now Here Is Nowhere, and fuses them with early ‘70s West German experimental rock. “The Walls Are Starting To Crack” progresses into a vast Floydian finish parallel to The Wall itself.
“The Fire Is Waiting” is characteristic of TSM’s lengthy instrumental breakdowns. Running just over 11 minutes long, it’s hard not to succumb to Renaissance drummer Josh Garza’s dance with the devil. Play the record loud and, much like the band’s early Texan heydays, your ears will ring for hours — but your heart will be OK. In other words, synchronize the aftershock of a My Bloody Valentine show with futuristic noise rock, and call it a close encounter of the new third kind. Houston, do you copy? Over and out.
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The Secret Machines’ official site
The Secret Machines’ MySpace page
Issue #35
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