by Chris Coplan (@CCoplan)
Roots are important. They tell us where we've been, where we may be headed, and even give us a kind of math to figure out if and when we veer off course. In the case of Kingston, New York's own Rider/Horse, that "journey" started out as a "duo delivering stripped-down post-punk screeds," but across the eleven track Matted, they are ever closer to a full band configuration. So the question begs, can they maintain the "minimalist industrial clatter...as [their] sonic foundation," or have Rider/Horse blazed an entirely new trail forward? With joy and awareness, I declare, "Yes."
You can certainly hear those streamlined, seemingly bare bones "roots" across Matted as they act as an essential foundation and bedrock. It's in the simple but hypnotic structure of "Combing The Horse"; the compact sense of aggression informing "Bombs"; how you get so much heft with the direct rhythmic interplay across "Fouled Walls"; and the way "Small Animals" seemingly builds and folds back into itself.
Rider/Horse appear to view the world with this minimalist utility, and that translates into how they approach songwriting (with care and precision). It means songs that cut very close given that the band have certain ideas and a larger relationship with listeners in the front of their shared brainpan. It's why "Bombs" can feel sexy and sinister all at once, or "Fouled Walls" has such charm under the feedback and crunchy rhythms. Rider/Horse are in our ears/hearts/minds/etc. by design, and that gives their music a power and immediacy that feels wholly refreshing. It's a song as telepathic communication, and the experience is as scary and exciting as that sounds.
So, then, what happens when Rider/Horse actually turn things up a notch, as it were? You can also feel that bombast across the aforementioned Matted tracks — "Small Animals," for instance, plays around with size and scale to feel both confrontational and comforting in a way that's novel and thematically relevant. There's other gems worth studying: "Headache Powder" feels like a power-pop song stretched and distorted like so much taffy; "Run The Rabbit" seemingly uses vocals as an instrument to foster an air of repetition as well as a near-physical presence; "Overdressed" is really interesting as you can practically hear each part interacting; and "He's Cactus Now" is a shimmery pop jam (albeit made by a junkyard band).
With these tracks, we still get that deeply, deeply personable experience that hums at Rider/Horse's core, but now it's, well, just plain bigger. While that seems overly simplistic, it's just turning things up — the volume, the level of noise, the joy and the anxiety, the possibilities, and even, ironically enough, their "limitations" (or, more accurately, self-imposed restrictions). It's a mighty demonstration in how you retain what matters (this rich nougat of textured, sometimes thorny but always compelling collaboration and engagement) no matter what else happens. They seemingly invite this chaos entirely; Matted embraces and relinquishes big ideas from song to song, moment to moment. There is always this sense that this vast emotional and intellectual machine stays churning ever onward, and there’s a presence that holds our hands over the flame with reckless abandon and ample joy.
Matted is, to really and truly boil it all down, the path from Rider/Horse's past to their future, but it's also so much more still. They welcome you into the slaughterhouse to see how the sausage is really made, and even if it's not always so pretty or even a wholly complete process, you can't help but feel moved (and maybe a little queasy?) We are now wholly engaged by this group, who trust listeners enough to let us see them shapeshift in real-time in all that splendid, often awkward manner. We get to watch/hear as they realize some of their new ideas in this new configuration as they fight hard to keep what works even if it might add too much weight or force the machine's gears to grind. It's a record that cherishes the pains and promise of growth, and is fully realized if only in that it's just another chance to delve into the band's wonderful but sometimes janky heart. That's what it means to really stay true to your roots: be eternally, unwaveringly yourself in every screeching noise and giant hook.
Have Rider/Horse changed collectively? Yes. Are they somehow still the same kind of quirky, disarming post-punk? Also yes. Can you grow and evolve and still be true to something essential, almost primal? Only if you remain perpetually raw, hungry, and creative as the wind. Are there even more mutations to come for Rider/Horse? We should only be so lucky.