Rachel's - Systems/Layers
(Quarterstick)
This time around, indie rock's orchestra-of-choice, The Rachel's, have stretched their wings by collaborating with a theater group called The SITI Company. While the album is now complete, the production they've developed together won't be performed until next year.
The forlorn "Moscow is in the Telephone" opens the album well, pitting a snippet of dialogue against a crooning violin. Stringing the two together is a loop of ambient electronic chirping. The violin is joined by more strings, which slowly wind upwards leading into a melancholy burst of focus. Among Rachel's' finer accomplishments in melding indie rock sensibilities with an orchestral setting, "Water From the Same Source" starts the record (for all intents and purposes) with a (restrained and relatively quiet, though no less moving) bang. But from this point the record begins to suffer as a result of its purpose and origin. With a significant portion of the overall 'experience' of this project absent (the theater), it lacks presence. What may be a compelling accompaniment to something happening on stage can be a meandering and lifeless song on CD. But, as I'm sure you've already thought, this is nothing new or specific to this release. There are countless examples of films, which have great soundtracks that on their own would make mediocre albums. While there are a handful of exceptions, Systems / Layers is not one. But, despite the albums fatal valleys, there are also a handful of peaks, which make it impossible to completely dismiss.
The crushing "Last Things Last," sung by Shannon Wright is devastating and straight-forward. The overdriven drums and ten-foot-tall-bee's buzzing of
"Singing Bridge" jars the listener (in a good way), cleansing the palette for the lilting "And Keep Smiling." The beautiful but all too short "where_have_all_my_files_gone?" is little more than a segue but could have been stretched to far more. A trait that it regrettably shares with the spectacular final track, "NY Snow Globe." At just under 2:30, it sets a looped piano phrase against a melodic and somber chord progression (also on piano). They're just out of time with one another, making a beautiful polyrhythmic jumble; a simple, and well-tested trick, but no less effective.
Though I always begin and end this album satisfied, there's a lot of space between filled with few too many lulls. When experienced fully, this may prove to be an incredible soundtrack, but when approached on its own, it falls a little short.
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