by Jeff Yerger (@jyergs)
Deafheaven did not put themselves in an easy position. That’s what happens when you release three flawless albums in a row. Ordinary Corrupt Human Love was a perfect album, a masterful culmination of everything that came before it – everything the band had been striving towards since the beginning. The whole album – from “Honeycomb” to “Worthless Animal” – sounded triumphant. It was going to be really hard to follow that thing up. I’m sure the band knew this, and I’m sure, to some degree, they put some pressure on themselves to keep the hot streak alive, but the one thing about Deafheaven is that they never gave a fuck about anyone’s expectations.
From the very beginning, singer George Clarke and lead guitarist Kerry McCoy – the heart of the band all these years – have never been interested in catering to any sort of group, whether that be black metal or shoegaze or whatever. They were never interested in being comfortable. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” likely isn’t a phrase uttered in the Deafheaven group chat. Luckily for us, the band appears to adhere to the adage that without a little bit of risk, there is no growth. There’s always that risk where a band’s personal growth may not necessarily be for the better (think: post-The Suburbs Arcade Fire). There’s a chance that it’s gonna suck. All of this is to say, I’m glad I took the risk to review the record, because reader, Infinite Granite definitely does not suck.
What a feeling it must be to find your muse to guide you to your next creative direction and see it fulfilled. Clarke found it in the early morning hours, battling insomnia and writing lyrics under the initial dim hue of the rising sun. This is what inspired the blue and black artwork for Infinite Granite, those first few moments in the sky when night is still dominant, yet the sun begins to reemerge from its dormancy. I don’t know why or when Clarke made the deliberate decision to change his vocal approach, whether be it physical necessity or creative strategy made by the whole band or what, but I like to think that maybe there was some sort of epiphany that came to him in those dark mornings. These are not hours for screaming, but rather they are moments for contemplation and reflection. This is where Infinite Granite lives, and this is where it begs the listener to meet it.
And meet it you must. I promise you, if you haven’t given any of this a chance yet, take the time to do it. I honestly didn’t think I was going to like this record as much as I do. I thought that maybe the shorter song lengths were going to feel somehow less-grand than their predecessors. Whatever reservations or worries I had in the beginning were unfounded. Infinite Granite is simply and utterly gorgeous. Deafheaven are flexing a different muscle here, from the ringing guitars that open “Shellstar” to the synths of “Neptune Raining Diamonds” that wash over you to the airy choruses and epic payoff in “Villain.” It all just works, in the most Deafheaven-ly way possible.
I can get into all the specifics of how, say, the production from Justin Meldal-Johnsen (M83, Paramore, Metric) sounds polished and grand. I can tell you that these are some of the tightest songs the band has ever written. I can tell you that the vocals float and slither rather than sear. I can tell you that while, yes, this is probably the “least-metal” album they’ve ever made, none of this should be that jarring – it should not be surprising that a band who has always idolized Oasis and the Smiths would want their guitars to sound like Johnny Marr during “In Blur,” or the verses in “The Gnashing” to hit like something from Definitely Maybe. I can tell you to give those first three singles a chance and that they’ll make more sense. I can tell you all of that and more, but in the end, you are going to want to feel this record for yourself.
The one thing about Deafheaven that has always remained true is that this is one of the few bands out there that can expose emotions that I didn’t even know I had, and I imagine if you are reading this right now you feel the same way too. No matter how you approach Infinite Granite, you are going to feel this music, and on no track are you going to feel something more than on “Mombasa.”
A lot of people are going to be talking about “Mombasa,” and rightfully so. It’s one of the most devastating tracks Deafheaven has ever recorded, although it doesn’t seem like much when it first arrives. It opens the same way OHCL left you – with the sound of an ocean – as if to say the past is never too far behind. A crackling fire then shifts into focus. It’s quiet. Maybe it’s 4am, and you’re awake underneath the dark blue of an early morning sky. There’s a gentle acoustic guitar, and the song then blooms into dream. It moves with all the grace and splendor of a ballerina. You feel as if you’re floating. Then, as soon as you begin to let your guard down, without warning… total annihilation.
They hit you – my God do they ever – with the force of a thousand atomic bombs. In the span of three minutes, Deafheaven lay waste to everything that came before it, like everything before it was leading up to this powerful moment if only to be destroyed. It only works because of everything that came before it, you see? The last few minutes of Infinite Granite are as heavy as anything they’ve made. I don’t know how or why they did it, but holy shit, it’s an unreal way to end a record. It’s beautiful and fiery, like we’ve always known the band to be. When the wall of feedback finally cuts out and you’re left with nothing but the ringing in your ears, remember that moment. That’s a feeling.