I don’t even know where to start with this album. It was recommended to me out of the blue by a friend, but I otherwise went into it cold. I think I enjoyed this album so much because of that ignorance, and so I’m not going to review this album properly. I’m going to implore that you find a copy of this album and listen to it without warning or preamble. It’s streaming right now officially, so you don’t even have to pay for it yet. Have a good (full album, don’t just skip through) and then continue to read this review.
How good is it?! Isn’t it just a wonderfully eclectic mix of utter bullshit, super heavy metal, and a little bit of literally everything else?
From the first track, I was expecting some deep, boomy metal. Then some electronica. Then track two comes around, and there’s a classical edge. But by the time “Houmous” started, with its off-time Hungarian accordion nonsense, I was done trying to expect what was coming next, and I treated the album more like a stand-up comedy hour than a musical jaunt. I was enjoying (and sometimes literally laughing) at each moment as it would sneak up on me unawares, whether it be an extended 8-Bit jam, or just the interstitial half bars of opera, or whatever else was thrown at me. Not only was the music good and surprising, but it was just a pure joy to be ensconced in someone’s creative process, to soak in one composer’s every indulgent and unrestrained whim, like I was taking a musical bath with one of those Lush bath bombs that make your tub a frothy acid trip.
It’s not perfect, by any means; there are more dub wubs on this record than semicolons in any of my articles, and sometimes the mix of the drums sits unpleasantly high. But obviously, if that’s the worst I can come up with then either this album is pretty obnoxiously good, or I’m heavily biased. Unfortunately for Igorrr, I happen to think it might be the latter.
I love myself a weird album. I adore Daughters, I think Fredrik Thordendal’s Special Defects are a better Meshuggah than Meshuggah, and I could fall asleep to Death Grips or John Zorn (N.B.: How fucking good would a John Zorn/Death Grips collaboration be?). I’m acutely aware that’s not for everyone. Some people like their genre-mashing and oddities to come a little more streamlined and subtle, but Savage Sinusoid is packed full of jarring shifts and time changes that arrive with the abruptness of a tram breaking. It all works, and the composer is likely a musical genius, but it’s not coy.
This is usually the part of the review where I give a final spiel as to why you should listen to an album, but you’ve already done that, so… good? I guess? Listen again, that’s what I’m doing. Christ, it’s fun.