San Francisco's MATMOS have already left behind a trail of strange sonic clues, including the critically-acclaimed major surgery-obsessed "A Chance To Cut Is A Chance To Cure", so the frolicsome organic/ electronic crossbeeds they aim to sire throughout sixth album "The Civil War" should probably come as no surprise to devotees.
Your reviewer, however, was only previously on reputation terms with Drew Daniel and M.C.Schmidt (collectively Matmos, though they have numerous featured guests here) and is staggered by the breadth of vision they incorporate here.
Delving deep into history, one assumes "The Civil War" relates to the American Civil War, although a blimp at the beautifully packaged mock-embossed sleeve and even a cursory listen to the album's opening pair of tracks suggests they may in fact be referring to the English counterpart. Indeed, the hurdy gurdy and recorder that frame "Regicide" transport you back through the centuries - well, that is until the electronica kicks in and builds up a formidable wall of noise.
It's evocative stuff, though, and compounded by the attractively scuttly "Zealous Order Of Candied Knights" (c'mon, could I POSSIBLY make these titles up?), which fuses bodhran-style drums, bagpipe-style hurdy gurdy and EVEN MORE recorders. Hurrah!
Dive deeper and things continue to intrigue. "The Civil War"s two lengthy epics (nine minutes apiece) land in succession mid-way through and they're more chameleonic than David Bowie clones at a fancy dress party. "Reconstruction" is especially bizarre, taking in miltary snare rolls and blips of synapse-crushing electronica. Just when you think the tune's gone fishing, a pleasant reggae-style lope establishes itself and Radar Bros mainman Jim Putnam adds some nice, John Barry-ish guitar before finally a lovely acoustic guitar and dobro duel serenade us out.
If anything, the succeeding "Yield To Total Elation" is even better. This time round, twinkly chimes give way to an approximation of ye olde Bo Diddley beat; a Motown bassline enters the fray and spars with the emerging squiggly electronica. This finally wins out and falls away until there's just the pounding rhythm to solo away (ooh! you Proggy buggers!) and a lone guitar explores on its' Jack Jones.
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The remainder of the album swings wildly between beauty and out-there esoterica. The latter is represented by tracks like "The Struggle Against Unreality", which features such arcane instruments as Ultrasonic Doppler Flow, Conducive Jelly and Sewer Pipe and is well dramatic and the truly bizarre "Pelt And Holler", which is the strangest, lurching low-key electronica imaginable involving rustling brush and scrub, Daniel rubbing rabbit pelt (I am NOT making this up!) and what appears to be a tiny Bugs Bunny sample.
However, in both versions of "For The Trees", they let unadorned melody do the talking. The former is jazzy, with brushed drums, trebly guitar and gently undulatng washes of synth, while its' reprise ("Return") forms a memorable postscript, with Schmidt's rippling piano and Blevin Blectum's skirling violin weaving an enchanting tapestry. As aftermaths go, this one takes some beating.
Whatever its' confusing historical significance, "The Civil War" is a fascinating record, full of twists, turns and chicanes, not to mention the odd cul-de-sac. Stylistically, it's as slippery as a barrel of greased eels and terms like 'eclectic' barely contain it, but when the results are this engaging then for once that doesn't have to be a bad thing.
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