by David Wilikofsky
Black Country, New Road’s debut album, For The First Time, arrived early last year atop a wave of buzz that few bands (let alone ones with only a handful of singles to their name) ever experience. Publications declared them the best new band in Britain, maybe even in the world; reviews of the album claimed it was everything a rock band could possibly do. Although my initial response to the album was admittedly a bit more muted, it slowly grew to become one of my favorite and most played albums of the past year. So, how do you follow up an album considered by many to be an instant classic? Three hundred and sixty four days later, we have Black Country, New Road’s answer.
Even from a cursory listen, it’s quite obvious that Ants From Up There is a different record than its predecessor. For The First Time was a set of road tested songs honed through performance, reflecting the energy and showmanship that makes the band such a powerhouse live act. By contrast, much of Ants From Up There was written in the studio, with each of the band’s seven members contributing ideas and democratically building the finished product. That difference in process is evident; the band largely forgoes the hairpin turns that characterized their previous album in favor of straightforward melodies that slowly build and develop. Its gentler, more subtle palette sounds like a product of studio tinkering rather than the live circuit.
All that being said, little comes out of left field. The build up and dissipation of musical tension was already on display in early singles like “Sunglasses,” and the understated beauty of tracks like “Bread Song” and “Mark’s Theme” feels like an evolution of previous recordings like “Track X.” What has changed is the band’s level of precision and focus; where For The First Time sounded like the band’s attempt to document a snapshot in time, Ants From Up There hones in on a few core musical elements and fully explores their possibilities.
Though their embrace of poppier, more melody forward songwriting is notable, to my ears the most important idea explored is tension; it is the animating force of nearly every track on the album, with each instrument and note deployed to help ratchet it up or diffuse it. “The Place Where He Inserted The Blade” ebbs and flows like a sinusoidal wave, eventually culminating in a wailing chorus and saxophone solo before disintegrating completely. “Snow Globes” slowly layers instruments on top of each other, operating in lock step until an unfettered drum solo provides a cathartic climax. Even shorter tracks like the instrumental “Mark’s Theme” play with it, as more and more instruments add heft to its initial improvised saxophone solo. This constant push and pull starts to feel like a primordial force as the album wears on, almost like an unseen hand driving everything forward. It becomes the glue that holds the whole album together.
I’ve heard it said that as we age, we don’t so much change as we become more refined versions of ourselves. Perhaps that is what we’re hearing here: the sound of a still young band developing and fine tuning their sonic signature. Then again, this is a band who’ve consistently stated in interviews that they’d always rather change things up and enjoy themselves than be bored. If history repeats itself, come February 3rd, 2023 we’ll likely be listening to an entirely new version of Black Country, New Road. Until then, I have no doubt I’ll keep coming back to Ants From Up There.