by Mimi Norton (@mimi_norton)
Chicago’s tightest art punks are back with an album of frenzied rhythms and quick rippers, which they describe as a “full-bodymind workout.” III will have you doing your calisthenics at 10x speed. Their first album in four years sees the band lean harder into tempo changes, odd time signatures, and surprising new rhythms. The songs on III elicit an opening sequence of a cartoon show – apt to introduce a world where every character is a primary-colored geometric shape. It’s not pop music, per se, but this album is hookier than their previous work. While their earlier albums have been called samey, these songs stand more distinctly apart from each other.
For those unfamiliar, Spread Joy dwells in the more avant-garde wing of post-punk (think Devo, Wire, and the Raincoats.) They’ve been placed within the contemporary egg punk scene alongside Snooper, Prison Affair, and CCTV, but they bring more of an art-school edge, thanks to singer Briana Hernandez’s theatrical delivery. Hernandez milks the phonetics of every word so that her delivery alone is a performance. She exaggerates vowels by stretching and contorting her mouth. She sings and yelps equally, playing with volume and pitch to distort sounds in new ways. On “Abolish Chance,” Hernandez invokes Mallarmé while using a facetious British accent and a baby voice. On “(Why Can’t) I,” she switches between sardonic falsetto and staccato squeals.
While the vocals are the band’s most conspicuous element, they don’t steal the show. Nick Beaudoin (previously of the band Negative Scanner) stuns with impeccably propulsive bass lines, best evidenced on “Cautionary Tale.” Tyler Bixby’s drumming is so controlled that the band’s shifting time signatures sound effortless. Guitarist Raidy Hodges’ buoyant riffs shine, especially on the great “Olli Oxen Frei.” What’s most impressive is how these elements lock together with mathematical precision.
Occasionally, the band let themself explore discordance, like at the end of “Left the House,” if only to demonstrate how quickly they can snap back into perfect synchronicity. They have the vim of beginners with the chops of absolute experts. Each song on the album is a sprint: controlled chaos at breakneck speed. “Pygmalion” is a standout, a quick song that epitomizes the aforementioned “full-bodymind workout”. The song is an exercise in technique and intellect. On the surface, the band demonstrates their fastest playing. However, the highbrow listener might pick up on the song’s commentary about the namesake play and its protagonist, Henry Higgins: a phoneticist obsessed with proper English. You have to applaud Hernandez’s irony as she sings about linguistic precision but deliberately scrambles the sounds Higgins wanted to perfect.
The band’s discography is full of modernist references, but you don’t need to get them to have a great time. Although it’s short, we’re lucky to have another album from Spread Joy. Especially because more music begets more shows. If you value musicians who are thinking outside the box, and who prioritize the audience experience, keep your eyes out for shows in Chicago and beyond.