by Dan Goldin (@post_trash_)
Infinite Hatch opens up a new realm in SPLLIT’s expanding galactic journey. The Baton Rouge duo dive into the deep end on their second full length, and they’ve created a masterpiece in the process. From songs that sound like bugged out pinball games to laser driven art punk odysseys, the layered eccentricities of Marance and Urq play it tight and discombobulated, their songs impeccably crafted with bubbling sci-fi croaks and discordant pops all part of the overall vision. Spllit Together, the band’s full length debut showed the band adept at tape spliced post-punk, the record built on twitchy angles and lo-fi charms that brought the circus to life in the dimly lit midnight hours. It was a promising debut that hinted that the band’s version of psychedelic punk was capable of mutating in all directions thanks to elastic compositions and a knack for tempo shifting and time signature contorting structures. By the time SPLLIT released last year’s “Ledder Cote / Adobe House” single though, it was already clear they were in a transformation. They weren’t abandoning their intricate cut and paste alien punk however, they were perfecting it, rearranging and re-contextualizing into a place where their effervescent songs could unfold in high definition.
If that was the start of the new voyage, Infinite Hatch feels as though they’ve arrived at their next celestial destination fully formed, the wonky kaleidoscope of their sound the only navigation. Home recorded over the span of a year and half, the duo captured the essence of their design to perfection, the actual sound of the project giving room for their complex synapses to snap at will, each frantic outburst of layered melody clearly defined from the next. It’s not so much that Infinite Hatch sounds glossy, there isn’t a single moment of over-engineering to be found, but for a band with as much chaotic nuance flickering on and off screen, it’s an astounding achievement that everything finds its place, with a seemingly impossible sense of overall cohesion chiseled out of silly putty. From progressive rhythms that bend time and space amid MIDI keys and percussive xylophones to samples that clang, warp, and dissolve between darting guitars and phasing harmonies, SPLLIT are playing with magic, pulling songs from the imaginative either.
Urg and Marance have blurred the lines between prog and punk, making technical music that feels without rules, seemingly writing with the capability to let the songs go wherever they may, the path itself unknown. Just as it seems they’ve let go of the map though, we’re reminded that their music is impeccably tight, and any feeling of loose and stretchy elasticity is conceived as a mirage. These songs are brilliantly crafted, even as they zig zag between their outer reaches, its alien landscape has been painted in exacting brushstrokes. Nothing is quite as it seems, but everything is deliberately in motion, the pieces constructed with bold purpose. SPLLIT haven’t arrived at Infinite Hatch on accident, they’ve been weaving us along a twisted route all along. It’s an album that deserves all the flowers, finding the perfect juxtaposition of egg punk, psych, art rock, prog, and experimental pop, before chewing it all into a fine gummy consistency.
From the opening displacement of “Canned Air,” we’re removed from our dismal reality to SPLLIT’s brainstem, a place where hushed MIDI squiggles and space-age distortion spiral beneath giddy rhythms, the whole thing pulsating in a stew of charismatic sonic exuberance. As one song seamlessly moves into the next, it becomes clear that Infinite Hatch was constructed with care, with natural progressions and vocals that appear snapped to the grid keeping the program steadily moving along, each moment a glimpse into the next, but nothing is predictable, as “Growth Hacking” is quick to remind us. Shaking and convulsing with a melodic ease but complex rhythmic diversion, SPLLIT explore their triumphantly weirder tendencies, skewing between robotic and wiggly in rapid succession. There’s never a dull moment, but they’re also never excessive, they spiral through repetition with bursts of black hole texturing (“Dorks Tried”) and pull tension to it’s breaking point with animated glee (“Fast Acting Gel”) while slinking into unbelievable detached grooves (“Cloaking”) and songs that split the difference between spindly post-punk and fried soul (“Smashed In”). SPLLIT have scrambled the context, and we’re happy to wander into their surrealist dreamland. It’s rare a band can create something so abnormally detailed and seemingly dissonant yet make it sound this melodically inviting and oddly accessible, but then again, SPLLIT are a rare breed.