by Chris Coplan (@CCoplan)
Time is supposed to fly when you’re having fun. As it turns out, it’s just as furiously quick when everything’s utterly on fire. That dynamic seems to be important to Powerplant, the experimental punk outfit led primarily by English musician Theo Zhykharyev. Across their various efforts, including 2022’s awesome Stump Soup, they seem to shift sonically with an anxious and unknowable energy. That may be, as this latest five-track effort demonstrates, because they feel time endlessly ticking away and the only way to make it matter is to embrace one’s whims in a battle against this ceaseless march toward obsolescence. Sometimes the clock wins when man cannot stake his claim.
Which is just a fancy way of saying that the EP is mostly full of moments where this signature approach really works. Take, for instance, Grass’ opener/title track. Zhykharyev and company manage an absolutely frenetic slice of ramshackle, garage-meets-synth rock that's like rollerblading down the steepest hill. Yet there's still ample space for his off-kilter charm and varied vocal performance (he can go from smooth and authoritative to wailing ninny in record time). Because of that, it's not all kinetic energy and fury but something measured and textured to extend that giant-sized thrill.
There's other instances of that across this EP, too. "Walk Around (Hang My Head)" manages to be both simultaneously sludgy and balls-to-the-wall -- that vaguely vintage synth seems to be the source of this dilation as Zhykharyev fights it to work properly. "Beautiful Boy" is a little more direct in terms of its maddening pace, but there's some layers here, the synths peaking and descending like an insect swarm, that make this feel more robust and varied.
This melding of energies -- or maybe it's more like a balancing of sentiments -- is the strength of Zhykharyev and the record at-large. On "Grass," that space that he's created by pitching the fast and weird isn't just novel but also unassuming -- and that measure feels important when discussing what makes Zhykharyev so thoughtful and inventive. In revisiting "Walk Around," the song doesn't just obscure timelines and genres, but does so in a way that puts the onus on Zhykharyev as this multifaceted entertainer with a massive range. That aforementioned directness that defines "Beautiful Boy" feels like a pointed statement about cutting through the mess of life to be as demonstrative as possible.
There's lots of thought and intention here as much as it’s just Zhykharyev manically dashing about, and that shows a singular dedication without making it a big deal. That slightly silly or borderline stupid approach isn't just a great way to make music but demonstrate a brilliant mastery of life, an approach that embraces things head on and consumes the ugly and the good in equal measure. The end result is very much that mastery of the trudging tendency of existence, and a way to combat it all for the sake of something maddeningly pure.
Yet as much Zhykharyev is a true master at staking his existential claim, there’s a few brief moments on this decidedly brief EP that are worth exploring on their own. It's mostly "Broodmother," which in and of its own isn't a bad song. How could you ever not genuinely enjoy a slow-moving, doubly glitchy synth-punk ballad made for some haunted furry masquerade. As short as this EP may be, it certainly fosters and almost demands a sense of cohesion, and "Broodmother" doesn't fall in line. It's the glaring moment where the dynamic of Grass dissolves, and a lot of the charm, depth, and general oomph found elsewhere is replaced by something that's, in the mad, mad context of it all, mostly a drag despite its irreverent charm. It should be a small thing, but it's much more irksome given how effective the rest of the EP is exploring its core motif and facilitating all this huge momentum and even bigger moods.
Same with "3 Medallions," what should be 23 seconds of total junk noise becomes a road hazard, a bump in an otherwise pristine road made for our madcap punk rock race machine. In that sense, it both ruins the vibe and, more importantly, reminds us of a notable downside of this brand of rock. For all its work to bash along against the weight of impending doom and midlife boredom, it's a perilous journey that’s easily derailed and almost always operating on the thinnest of margins. When things soar, they do so magically, and when it fails, it feels mostly grating and disappointing. Luckily, this album flies more than it fumbles, but that doesn't mean it's not still noticeable. As with life, your downfalls inform your achievements.
A lot of music these days does what Grass tries to accomplish: battle against the ever-approaching odds to make a claim for things like people and decency and other silly notions. This EP, however, feels all the more effective for the power and presence of Zhykharyev, who fills each song (or the vast majority) with the essence of truly important music for a punishing, fleeting world. Let's just leave it at this: put in the ten minutes to listen and it'll be time very well spent indeed.