We all know that listening to overtly loud music damages hearing. Sleigh Bells know – or used to know, sorry – this, too.
Coming on like a wasabi milkshake delivered straight to the chest cavity, the very, very Brooklynite Derek Edward Miller (formerly ear-splitting distorted noises, now un-ironic hair metal noises) and Alexis Krauss (formerly reckless distorted lady noises, now just breathy lady noises) were a hazard to any portable music player unlucky enough to hold any of Sleigh Bell’s pre-debut music; ‘Crown on the Ground’ and ‘A/B Machines’ stand as examples of pure sonic terror, every ounce as utterly ecstatic as they are wholly frightening.
The blog machines whirled and the mainstream press got hold of debut record Treats, hopping up and down on the spot and marveling at the spectacle of such confrontational music dipping its proverbial toes in the deep end (or shallow end, depends how you look at it) of the mainstream.
But it was entirely unnecessary as Treats was ultimately disappointing, expanding outwards in scope yet failing to capitalise on the upwards momentum.
Reign of Terror is much the same.
Opener ‘True Shred Guitar’ raises eyebrows, and hopes, but it caves in just under the three-minute mark, and it serves as the only sign of the Sleigh Bells that were once so brutally brilliant.
There’s too much goddamn irreverent use of faux 80s guitar sounds, and spastic, entirely intended riffing, mechanic beats restrained to a supporting, time-keeping role.
Their magnificent ability to be objectionable from the offset was admirable in the climate of chillwave from whence they emerged; alas it’s been reduced to a tedious formula, reducing each element, doubling-down, and sanitizing the brutal static that pervaded their most pertinent work.
Put the crown back on the ground, Sleigh Bells' reign of terror is over.
Coming on like a wasabi milkshake delivered straight to the chest cavity, the very, very Brooklynite Derek Edward Miller (formerly ear-splitting distorted noises, now un-ironic hair metal noises) and Alexis Krauss (formerly reckless distorted lady noises, now just breathy lady noises) were a hazard to any portable music player unlucky enough to hold any of Sleigh Bell’s pre-debut music; ‘Crown on the Ground’ and ‘A/B Machines’ stand as examples of pure sonic terror, every ounce as utterly ecstatic as they are wholly frightening.
The blog machines whirled and the mainstream press got hold of debut record Treats, hopping up and down on the spot and marveling at the spectacle of such confrontational music dipping its proverbial toes in the deep end (or shallow end, depends how you look at it) of the mainstream.
But it was entirely unnecessary as Treats was ultimately disappointing, expanding outwards in scope yet failing to capitalise on the upwards momentum.
Reign of Terror is much the same.
Opener ‘True Shred Guitar’ raises eyebrows, and hopes, but it caves in just under the three-minute mark, and it serves as the only sign of the Sleigh Bells that were once so brutally brilliant.
There’s too much goddamn irreverent use of faux 80s guitar sounds, and spastic, entirely intended riffing, mechanic beats restrained to a supporting, time-keeping role.
Their magnificent ability to be objectionable from the offset was admirable in the climate of chillwave from whence they emerged; alas it’s been reduced to a tedious formula, reducing each element, doubling-down, and sanitizing the brutal static that pervaded their most pertinent work.
Put the crown back on the ground, Sleigh Bells' reign of terror is over.
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Kerry Lauerman
Joan Walsh
Salon.com
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