9 Songs, 35 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Pre Language marks the moment Disappears comes into full focus. Merging psych, post-punk, and krautrock styles into one, their third record finds solid footing that gives balance to each facet. The sound's a shade brighter, and the songs are now equal parts Can-inspired grooves and churning rock. There’s a tad more muscle underlying it all, especially in the excellent drumming of Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley. In fact, comparing the feel of Pre Language to a smoother-edged Sonic Youth isn't far off the mark; many of the tunes transform what might be shapeless murk in a lesser band’s hands into menace with rhythm. The first two tracks are a powerful start, charging steadily on hammered beats, wiry and snaggletoothed guitars quivering with reverb and distortion; Brian Case shouts like Thurston-meets-Iggy to be heard above the din. “Fear of Darkness” moves in a hypnotic groove, slyly building to a tension-filled end, while “Joa” takes a similarly seductive approach, its slinky, spartan beat morphing into a dark and unsettling pastiche of vocal despair and forceful (yet spare) guitar work.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Pre Language marks the moment Disappears comes into full focus. Merging psych, post-punk, and krautrock styles into one, their third record finds solid footing that gives balance to each facet. The sound's a shade brighter, and the songs are now equal parts Can-inspired grooves and churning rock. There’s a tad more muscle underlying it all, especially in the excellent drumming of Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley. In fact, comparing the feel of Pre Language to a smoother-edged Sonic Youth isn't far off the mark; many of the tunes transform what might be shapeless murk in a lesser band’s hands into menace with rhythm. The first two tracks are a powerful start, charging steadily on hammered beats, wiry and snaggletoothed guitars quivering with reverb and distortion; Brian Case shouts like Thurston-meets-Iggy to be heard above the din. “Fear of Darkness” moves in a hypnotic groove, slyly building to a tension-filled end, while “Joa” takes a similarly seductive approach, its slinky, spartan beat morphing into a dark and unsettling pastiche of vocal despair and forceful (yet spare) guitar work.

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