Culture

It's 3 a.m. I'm 11 years old, sleep-deprived, watching C4. 'Battles – Atlas' appears onscreen. “What the fuck, Atlas? That Kiwi band who wrote that annoying song ‘Crawl’?! Wait. Ohhh, I see. What a stupid band name.”

The thumping drums, alien keyboards and ultra-distorted vocals amuse me for a bit, as does the music video, then I get creeped out and switch it off. I don't sleep too well.
 
Cut to the modern day and I’m a huge fan of this band. After devouring their debut album, Mirrored, in Fourth Form (the second track of which is Atlas), I've since been itching for a follow-up. I've gotten a taste for chunky, high-register math rock, and one album and a bunch of obscure EPs can only get you so far.
 
Only this year has Battles' sophomore effort arrived, under the delicious moniker Gloss Drop, oozing into our universe after the controversial departure from the band of vocalist Tyondai Braxton (sounds like a pretentious sports car, I know). Instead of replacing him, the three remaining Battlers have recruited guest singers to do vox on four of the twelve tracks on Gloss, including Gary “Here in my Car” Numan and Yamantaka Eye of Boredoms. Wowee. The remaining eight songs are instrumentals, bizarre free-for-alls in which the band members dance around each other sonically and gradually pound, scratch and twinkle towards a semi-logical finale. Fanboy bias aside, this could go either way.
 
Thank Christ it works. Gloss Drop rivals, and arguably exceeds, its now-classic predecessor. Opening track ‘Africastle’ sets one hell of a standard, pulsing and chiming with newfound optimism, and this level of quality continues until the very end of dichotomous closer Sundome (incidentally featuring Yamantaka's Eastern yelps). It's bright. It's happy. It's gooey. It's colourful. Right off the bat I'll say there are no mindfuck tracks present, nor any that rival the self-sufficient greatness of Atlas, but the album’s consistency and creativity make up for that. And despite its more accessible nature, Gloss Drop is actually quite a bit weirder overall. The unthinkably wacky moments of Mirrored have been snuffed out, true, but so have the small pools of comprehensible rock normality, like the surprisingly conventional section of ‘Tonto’ that begins just shy of the three-minute mark. Gloss Drop's consistent bizareness is a mixed blessing; the cheerful psychosis that echoes throughout the album makes it feel like one long rollercoaster, even if its tamer moments (lead single ‘Ice Cream’ and ‘Sweetie & Shag’ come to mind) create less empathy as a result.
 
In terms of actual sound, the production is fantastic. All of the instruments sound clear, clean and loud, allowing us to follow where they dart around more easily than on Mirrored. And although the vocal appearances were apparently recorded after the rest of the track, each voice fits its song like a glove. Standouts would include the sensual goof-off ‘Ice Cream’, the chewy funk number ‘Futura’, the simultaneously droning-and-sparkling ‘Sundome’, and of course ‘My Machines’, the bombastic tour-de-force that Numan soars over in what must be my favourite track on Gloss Drop. And yeah, Inchworm sounds like a Yoshi-themed level on Mario Kart.
 
Intelligent, matured, ecstatic and hella fun, Gloss Drop is an amazing album. I suggest you go out and buy it, along with a kilogram of bubblegum and a trampoline, and get stupid this weekend.
 
4.5/5