Mogwai, The Bad Fire
Mogwai is a cosmic band. With the fires finally subsiding in Los Angeles County; The Bad Fire is aptly, and unfortunately titled. Utterly coincidental (we don't want to spark even more conspiracy theories here—the world needs that like we all need holes in our heads)—but isn't that one of the most magical things about great art? It seems to capture the moment as if pulled straight outta the cosmic story without any intention of volition! It's contemporary and timeless at the same damn time. And what else can do that, but high art? The Bad Fire is that high art: High cosmic audio art. This is also the Scottish band's first time working with producer John Congleton, perhaps best-known for his work with Sigur Ros and Explosions in the Sky (for fans of the movie and subsequent series Friday Night Lights—they provided the amazing instrumental music for both—one of this reviewer's favorites). The album is also, reportedly, a glimpse into some rough times for the band mates. Their struggles are palpable, and given that this is their eleventh LP, it's no surprise.
I've often called Mogwai my favorite ambient band, and readers of this columnist know of my endless love for these guys. Well, I'm happy to report that the love affair continues with The Bad Fire. With each release I admittedly anticipate not liking their new offering. This may sound strange; silly even. But I just, for whatever ridiculous reason, can't imagine liking every freakin' thing they do! I mean: How many bands can you say that about? For me, it's really just Radiohead and these guys. But the moment the first few notes of "Gods Get You Back," the first single from Fire, graced my Apple Music library I knew they'd created another triumph, and I waited with anticipatory excitement for the rest of the record like a kid at Christmas morning. Speaking of kids: When I read that the song featured lyrics written by guitarist Barry Burns young daughter (reportedly following a stretch of good ol' writer's block, and I know that beast very well) I was even more impressed. The song sounds like the very best of Mogwai to me. Who would've known a kid (seven or eight years old by the time of this publication) was the lyrical force behind it? And a force it is. Floaty, wavy synths build to wide-open rippling bass and dreamy space-age guitar riffs that seem to hover, until the drums drop and pound through the cascading vocals. The sound is strong and hard-edged, but also bouncy.
"Pale Vegan Hip Pain"? One glance at that song title and you know this sound ain't gonna be roses and freakin' unicorns. The agony of the sparse, soaring guitars is enough to make you cry, but it's so worth it. Why do we do this to ourselves? Because it's honest. Painful, but honest, or seemingly honest anyway. I don't know the band personally, but this feels intimate. Feels like an open wound; like heartache sonically morphed into beauty so the artist can work through the pain of remembering while trying to forget. And isn't that another thing artists strive to accomplish? Escape through process, but also an attempt to commemorate.
Recall that I just said Mogwai is a cosmic band? Well, look no further than "If You Find This World Bad, You Should See Some of the Others" for proof. Its black spaciousness and starry overtones are vast and foreboding; endless yet also seemingly constricted. It's a musical duality that's pained and sorrowful but also so beautiful it's almost tormenting to listen to. Like looking at a picture of the town of Altadena in Los Angeles County; reduced to what looks like Beirut in the eighties, by the Eaton Fire (speaking of this particular picture taken by our friend in the industry: EveAnna Manley—it was so captivating I couldn't look away). It's completely haunting, but also so beautiful it tears your heart out. That's the vibe throughout The Bad Fire. That energy continues in "18 Volcanoes." Another example of musical duality. The sound is gorgeously morose, there's a real sense of longing and despair, but the lyrics are full of spiritual hope and light. It reminds me of this quote I saw recently:
"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present."
Sir Francis Bacon
I'm not sure that any creative wording of mine could more aptly describe the sound of The Bad Fire better than that quote from Sir Francis. I guess it's no surprise that, nearing the end of this review, I looked up the meaning of the album title—and it's apparently a working-class Glaswegian term for hell! Again, what could words of mine do top that statement? What I can offer is this: This particular musical hell is like watching the scene of a deadly car crash shot and framed by your favorite cinematographer: It's painful and gross, but also so beautiful you can't possibly turn away. That's not easy. Mogwai has given us a breathtaking glimpse of hell, and I never thought I'd throw those two words together in a sentence. But that's what great art does: It challenges us. It challenges everyday concepts and turns them upside down, giving us a fresh, new perspective through someone else's eyes. I, for one, feel privileged to be taken on this musical journey. It's powerful, and it feels intimate and meaningful. I highly recommend you give The Bad Fire a spin. I can't imagine you'd regret it.
