Album Review: Find Me In The Inferno

Adult Friends debut album Find Me In The Inferno is an intense ride, to say the least.

The songs on offer here are similar to the emerging style found on earlier releases not related to this album (such as Brittle or Ryan Gosling from the blackmail.txt EP), but now, offered as a slab of post-hardcore, experimental-noise-rock, there is a developing style and themes between songs with an overall message … I think. The band tends to throw some interesting and unexpected curveballs for the listener, both lyrically (with Bowie inspired surrealism) and unusual song structures, with a few exceptions on their more poppy leaning tunes.

The sound throughout the album varies between extremes. There’s a type of inelastic harshness to much of the heavier moments creating a stimulating tension with an unsettling vibe as lyrics are screamed, guitars wail, bass lines throb and drums are manically played. However, there are glimpses of beauty to be found peeking out between these moments and occasionally being offered simultaneously. These less heavy moments feature confessional-like gentle singing with ambient instruments creating a cinematic environment. The themes explored here seem to be inspired by modern alienation, despondency, confusion and general agitation for what the universe offers us. Sure enough, a major source of inspiration for the album was none other than the 1500’s epic poem, The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri, where the protagonist travels through hell and back. The cover, and some promotional material, features still frames from L’Inferno (translation – ‘The Hell’) which was a 1911 silent film based loosely on The Divine Comedy. Like Adult Friends debut album, it took longer than expected to complete and is best consumed in one sitting. The band admit the album is based on a concept of an inferno full of eternal ironic punishments and after reviewing the lyrics and listening to the whole album a few times there is a certain type of sarcastic humour to be found amongst the apparent nihilism. There are influences from hardcore bands such as Turnstile and Black Flag, but equally represented are goth influences such as Bauhaus and Joy Division. Bands such as Team Sleep, Sonic Youth and Melvins swirl around also. Basically – its heavy, harsh, personal, strange, complex and unpredictable.

The self-produced album was recorded at Massey University and mixed by the band’s singer-guitarist Jackson Kidd and mastered by Scott Seabright. Original drummer Duvan Coezee plays frantic, intricate drums throughout, now replaced by Billy Bathgate who assisted with the production. Guitarist Daniel Maslen plays unorthodox noise in the place of a lead guitarist, and while the first listen can be both unexpected and confusing, the harmonic richness his playing offers creates both tension and atmosphere. Harrison Yates holds the structure of the songs together with prominent and fuzzed out bass.

Greyhounds opens the album with a hectic hardcore punk sound complete with intense drumming which collapses into an eerie, reverb drenched My Bloody Valentine inspired verse. The drums bring the song back to its original intensity, then there’s echoed screams and the famous Rainbow Machine Polyphonic Pitch Mesmerizer glitches out at the song’s conclusion. The lyrics mention “A city mass grave” and warn the listener, “Once they fret their fortune, Now they have to wait.” These are the types of lyrics to be found throughout the album – mystical, esoteric and hinting at something, but never quite admitting or committing to a clear concept. The greyhounds return, at the end of the album, but for now they exist metaphorically as abused animals used provisionally to perform at spectacles.

Smart People is single material with a poppy shine and a grungy underlay. There’s an interesting call and wait response structure of the song, but despite this an unsettling melody arises and the song disintegrates then restructures itself at half-time – then there’s an absolute fireworks of guitar effects spinning out of control. It’s certainly not predictable although you’d be forgiven to think it might be at the beginning. The best part is when the palm muted chorus returns for the finale.

Bunnyman is another single released before the album, although the spoken word over a panicky onslaught of riffs with a brittle sound makes it far less accessible than the last song. The tune has an interesting and dramatic decrease in volume and intensity in the middle before it explodes again to reach the full potential of the band. Lyrically there’s hints of insomnia (a theme that returns later) and multiple personality disorder: “I would give anything just to sleep easily, I want you to poke and prod at my brain when I am dead, To shut my eyes and kill this man inside my head.”

Harder To Stay Awake features some exciting guitar effects that swirl over an epic chord progression, set against some rather unusual ascending notes that bring the song to a conclusion.

A stand out track is The Replacement. A catchy but irregular riff is joined by more and more instruments to swell and develop a type of groove. The lyrics feature the name of the album itself so the song is as close to a title track as this band would likely admit to. The song also proves that Jackson Kidd can sing as well as scream. The song changes gear many times, boiling over into chaos more than twice to reveal a repeating line sung acapella: “Something happens in the morning, Always voting for plans to make plans”. One of the most insane drum fills I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing takes place while a noise guitar solo occurs. There’s also some reverse guitar in there for good measure. An intense track indeed that takes the listener on a wild journey. The part of the song where Kidd sings “I love you, I love you There’s a hole in the floor, Where you were once standing, but the screaming calls for more” is one of finest moments in the whole album.

Jack of Spades is a noise interlude with found retro audio that separates the album into two halves, almost like an intermission which continues the cinematic theme.

The Omission Era is another stand out track, but I somehow doubt this band would take it as seriously as others. There’s something too accessible, too tasty and too melodic for Adult Friends to readily accept this as the gem of a song it is. Somehow the song sounds unabashedly Kiwi-like also, but it’s hard to explain why. It is perhaps the most predictable song on the album, but it’s nice after so many unexpected turns and unusual song structures to have a pop verse-chorus tune.

We Sleep Easy has some gorgeous reverb drenched vocals. There are some absolutely stunning melodies being sung that shine through the harsh chaos. The lyrics are contemporary, simple, and somehow divinely mundane: “There’s nothing to it really, Supply; Demand”. Rent may have once begun as perhaps a humorous song, but if it was (or was ever intended as such) it certainly gets dark very quickly. The song is perhaps the most angular, angry and intense song on the album (apart from perhaps the harshest moments of Greyhounds). The song suddenly takes a left turn at “Burn up the fields; Blockade the tunnels, Someone catch that son of a bitch” to transform into an uber goth anthem before the song descends into chaos.

Album closer, Here They Come, begins with an acoustic guitar accompanying a lone voice. “The greyhounds are coming”, Kidd warns us as the song develops into the slowest tune on the album, reaching nearly stoner doom metal heaviness. Clean vocals with dreamlike lyrics clearly sit above the chugging with rather spectacular emotional singing, questioning fate and the decisions God makes for us. The song crumbles into unaccompanied intense screaming, and finally a small chuckle, as if to remind us all that it was all just a joke – a divine comedy, perhaps?

What does it all mean? It isn’t clear and I’d like to think Adult Friends want it that way. There are hints of meaning, but they would prefer you to get lost with them along the dangerous highway filled with shadowy, suspicious figures. Certainly, there’s inspiration drawn from an uncertain world and future, but of the five stages of grief that some visceral albums such as Find Me In The Inferno demonstrate, Fear and Anger are represented here far more than any Bargaining or Denial. There is perhaps some strange Acceptance to the order of things, but there is a sick sense of humour to it all that some might find fittingly nihilistic and others might interpret as depressing. By the second listening, I’ve come to appreciate the vast range of sonic experimentation, the intensity of the performances and the clever ordering of songs. By the album’s end, the greyhounds have run their race and their fate is uncertain, but there’s some odd hope that the pain of the journey taught them something – only, dreamlike, it’s hard to remember what was revealed amongst the darkness and heat. Maybe it just needs to be played through again.