Like a piece of fine art, The Forms bring their listeners a fresh, inspirational masterpiece after a second swing in the studio. Crisp, clear and carefully constructed sounds send along melancholy vibrations capable of slowing down everything but time.
The Forms bring much more than soothing sensations with their new self-titled album (Oct. 23, Threespheres), a follow-up to their debut, Icarus. With help from producer Steve Albini (Cheap Trick, the Pixies), the band’s pointed and precise efforts shine through with success.
The lyrics run the risk of being put on the back burner as the songs melodically drift along. It becomes difficult to extract a deeper meaning from the vocals when every song is a cohesion of melody and meaning.
Songs “Blue Whale” and “White Dot” each open with a mellow groove, picking up the pace and gaining a higher, more definite energy midway through.
Others such as “Red Gun” and “Oberlin,” on the other hand, involve more of a blues-style guitar concentration, avoiding the high-energy pace altogether.
Though these styles differ greatly, they manage to blend together in near perfection, leading to the final product-one fluid sound. The Forms have created melodies that melt the words right into them.
Pulling sounds from groups such as Minus the Bear, Modest Mouse and Band of Horses, The Forms manage to construct a tranquil electronic vibe accompanied by instrumentals and subdued vocals. That is not to say that things fall flat throughout the entirety of the album. Instead, there is a non-stop pulse of energy-calming, melodic, sensational energy.
The Forms plays through like one continuous jam. The first song meshes beautifully into the second and the second into the third with unnoticeable transitions.
A major contribution to this unremitting quality is that a few of the songs are extremely short: “Math Oberlin,” for instance, is merely 18 seconds in length.
This unique feature is a bit disappointing because it makes for a much shorter album. This could have been a strategic move, because a lengthy version of The Forms’ music could very well become tiresome. The band’s concoction would turn into a droning mess without tempo changes and the electronic moments mixed in after lulling segments.
Reviewing the album as a whole, it is comparable to Jackson Pollock’s unique drip-paint style of painting. When Pollock’s paintings are broken down into small sections, they don’t make the same impression as the painting as a whole.
Similarly, The Forms possesses this part-to-whole concept; individual songs are reflective of the album’s overall theme. The 18 seconds of “Math Oberlin” would not be enjoyed as much in solidarity as they are when surrounded by corresponding tunes. Each song possesses a similar vibe that can be felt throughout the album.
Calming, unique and oozing with preciseness, The Forms manages to give fans a concise, fresh album. Carefully constructed melancholy beats never sounded this cool.
