by Layton Guyton (@layotn)
Naked Era, the sophomore album of Chicago indie rock artist Chaepter, is a shadowy and pulsing collection of songs. His debut for the Boston-based Candlepin Records is fraught with emotion and prairie-sized dread. Songs seem to loom over you, closing in around you as you listen, less a wall, and more of a dense fog, or hundred-pound weighted blanket of sound. Anxious guitars buzz and trill at the fringes and a relentless rhythm section pushes everything forward. Chaepter’s writing mixes elements of shoegaze and krautrock, shot through with lyrical unease, a desire for human connection, and the constant suggestion that everything is not as it seems. As far as reference points go, King Krule come to mind, as does the early work of cult heroes Blonde Redhead, however these comparisons are more about the heavy feeling that the music gives off rather than a particular sound.
The first ten churning minutes of the record get straight to the point, beginning with the head-nodding groove of lead single “Post-Touch” (with it’s fantastic music video, self-created and filmed on Super 8) followed up by the longest song on the record, “New Era.” The latter spirals into an explosive jam accented with bursts of noise. Distorted cello and harmonics stab through the mix, while bassist Ayethaw Tun and drummer John Golden hammer out a stainless-steel slab of a beat. It’s a captivating opening where the band really lays out their MO, keeping their foot firmly on the gas throughout.
There are some spots of warmth in the mostly cold soundscape of Naked Era. In moments, gentler chords wash over everything, relieving the tension that the band is constantly building. Chaepter’s voice is a strong focal point throughout with its ghostly but warm vibrato. It carries the emotional heart of the music, driving home its severity. His delivery of lines like “speak up, don’t stop now, love is a language” in “Post-Touch” offers a glimpse of solace amid tales of anxiety and decay. “Talk to your neighbor and spit on the curse,” and “stay close it’s your medicine” are strong prescriptions for warding off evil.
Chaepter’s EP, The Moon is an Emotional Island, featured little more than a voice, an acoustic guitar, and some strings, and his last album, Kicking the Cat, has similarly understated foundations of synths and drum machines. His two previous releases are great and exist in similar zones, carrying a quiet intensity, full of superstitious and uncanny imagery. On Naked Era, Chaepter runs a high voltage electric current through his arrangements, adding a huge sense of urgency. It marks a shift to heavier music, backed by the sounds of a full band. This new turn deepens the feelings of apprehension and the potency of his self-described “midwestern gothic” music. Naked Era is a record that will jangle your nerves in the best way and remind you that you are not alone, a familiar sensation and a welcome message in these times.