10 Songs, 1 Hour 8 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Anyone who’s familiar with the extreme No Wave ends of Sonic Youth will find comfort in Kim Gordon’s challenging new duo, Body/Head, with guitarist Bill Nace. Like many band-member projects outside of Sonic Youth's scope, Body/Head aims for the experimental edge, where songs are eliminated in favor of loud, feedback-heavy tonal creations that traditional pop music fans might call noise. Yet for those willing to take the difficult ride, there’s a cathartic, cinematic abrasiveness that builds in tension. (Gordon names French iconoclast and filmmaker Catherine Breillat as someone also working along rarely investigated lines.) “Last Mistress” and “Actress” blurt with anger. “Untitled” takes a breather before the unsparing drones, moans, and digital loop static and horn-honking blare of “Everything Left” takes off. “Can’t Help You” comes nears the idea of a conventional song before finding its tonal center. And then there’s the final half-hour, which consists of “Black” (as in “Black Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair”) and the pitch-dark, emulsifying “Frontal,” where Gordon chants, wails, and moans over societal taboos. Powerful.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Anyone who’s familiar with the extreme No Wave ends of Sonic Youth will find comfort in Kim Gordon’s challenging new duo, Body/Head, with guitarist Bill Nace. Like many band-member projects outside of Sonic Youth's scope, Body/Head aims for the experimental edge, where songs are eliminated in favor of loud, feedback-heavy tonal creations that traditional pop music fans might call noise. Yet for those willing to take the difficult ride, there’s a cathartic, cinematic abrasiveness that builds in tension. (Gordon names French iconoclast and filmmaker Catherine Breillat as someone also working along rarely investigated lines.) “Last Mistress” and “Actress” blurt with anger. “Untitled” takes a breather before the unsparing drones, moans, and digital loop static and horn-honking blare of “Everything Left” takes off. “Can’t Help You” comes nears the idea of a conventional song before finding its tonal center. And then there’s the final half-hour, which consists of “Black” (as in “Black Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair”) and the pitch-dark, emulsifying “Frontal,” where Gordon chants, wails, and moans over societal taboos. Powerful.

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