Defying the conventions of the band setup, the eight-piece produce an album unique and euphoric but nonetheless emphatically grounded.
Photo: El Hardwick | Words: Dan Webster
Not only is the music of London eight-piece caroline resistant to genre tags and conventional song structures, the group do not adhere to the preconceived notions of a 'band' either. They have been described as an 'anti-band' – not to describe on their part any sort of contempt for the idea, but to point out how they differ from traditional band aesthetics. There is no singular lead singer, and they often prefer to play in-the-round in unconventional spaces, making caroline are a band that operate in their own lane.
Subversion and experimentation are at the heart of what the band present, and this is perhaps best understood by seeing a live show. When performing together, each member of the group moves in tandem with their instrument, giving off physical cues as to the shifting phases and rhythms of a song. Often, in the absence of a conventional drum pattern, the band writhe to their own internal tempos, communicating their part to one another and the emotional potency to an audience. The result is an entrancing display, as caroline bob and weave as if one single organism moving through musical metamorphosis.
Even without the visual aid, the physicality of the band's second album 'caroline 2' is tangible in its recordings. From the opening seconds, the album is jump-started by 'Total euphoria' with its pangs of staccato guitars, not quite in conversation but rather talking over one another. They are soon joined by an initially disorienting stop-start drum pattern followed by the forgivingly harmonious refrain "If you let them, I will let them". Building into a grand wall-of-sound, the dizzying splendour is both transfixing and overwhelming – like viewing Armageddon from above. The apocalyptic atmosphere is brought to a head by what can only be described as an abominable bass splurge that quite literally decimate the track. In spite of this the band play on, even harder, battling the nuclear distortion. Defying the odds, they claw themselves out of the obliteration and back into the mix, seeing out the track with triumphant flourishes and wild cries of ecstasy. Quite the tone-setter.
Up to now, the band has been known to stitch together meditative passages of subtle orchestration with fiercely unhinged detours that veer into instrumental bedlam. For those familiar with the sonic environments of the self-titled debut album, the sounds on display here may not be a total surprise, while the arresting, awe-inspiring arrangements carry over. In fact, it is "moments" that seem to punctuate the album, often in the form of emotional swells of instrumentation. Take 'Tell me I never knew that', where surprise guest Caroline Polacek lends her signature ethereal vocal layers, as the track builds towards a midpoint that sees the band explode into life around her, the titular refrain ringing out over the top.
Other moments do the opposite, as demonstrated in 'U R UR ONLY ACHING' when a rapturously fierce instrumental is suddenly decapitated and replaced by gently plucked nylon guitar and a kindly vocal melody. The band have a penchant for ushering in or out these cacophonic eruptions with rising violin crescendos reminiscent of John Cale's screeching contributions to 'The Velvet Underground & Nico', or with smatterings of free-form drumming with that propel, stall and capsize as required. Not to overstretch the VU comparison, but when caroline embrace runaway-train instrumentals and dense, wildly expressive performances (especially from the strings), it does recall those of either the aforementioned '…& Nico' or its followup 'White Light / White Heat'. Except in this case, 'caroline 2' is not imbued with a sense of prickly rock'n'roll angst, rather a gentler, but no less terrific effort towards exaltation. Listening to caroline feels a bit like entering a rehearsal space, passing many doors and tuning into the various ideas leaking out of each room. This comparison is brought to life on 'Coldplay Cover' in which a microphone is heard being walked between two rooms, each containing half the band performing two distinct songs. These bleed together as the mic picks up their intersection.
One more "moment" to pick out arrives during 'Two riders down', during which all members throw in the kitchen sink. After an achingly tense opening, the heavens open and the band plunge headlong, burning up over 4 minutes of relentless, sublime climax. It is a performance that has all dials trembling in the red zone, a heart-wrenching, demonstration of the synergy that characterises caroline.
Catharsis, emotional release and fragility runs through the entire album, with tracks treated delicately when needed, and similarly with wanton abandon when that is required. caroline have created a welcoming yet abstractly beguiling world that does not polarise or intimidate. It has no perquisites and requires no allegiance that can often dictate how to engage with a band and their music. These sonic environments are indiscriminate, and even in its most incendiary moments, the band's courtesy and tenderness remains present, a throughline that binds the album and defines a unique spirit setting the band apart from any contemporaries in this country's musical landscape.
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