By Todd Lavoie
Known in the rest of the world as simply Brakes, here in America the Brighton, England, freewheelers have been given the Beetlejuice treatment, forced to have their name repeated thrice in a summons much like that of Michael Keaton’s wacky exorcist character from Tim Burton’s classic film. The similarity doesn’t end there, however: vocalist Eamon Hamilton (formerly of British Sea Power) and his fellow adventurers do a fair bit of exorcism themselves, albeit of a different variety, and with equal measures of piss and vinegar. On their sophomore release, The Beatific Visions (Rough Trade/World’s Fair), released earlier this year, Brakesbrakesbrakes are once again deliriously hell-bent on shooing away the ghosts of sterility, and much like its predecessor, the results are exhilarating. Wildly eclectic without sounding forced, it is a short, bursting blast of an album that dazzles with ambition and wit.
Careening out of the gates like a late-period Pixies without the UFO fixation – a comparison helped by Hamilton’s occasionally Frank Black-like tenor – the lads hack away at classic rock clichés on “Hold Me in the River” and “Cease and Desist,” while novelty-dance number “Spring Chicken” yelps and twitches with levels of glee bordering on mania. Half Dadaist manifesto, half Molotov sneer, “Porcupine or Pineapple” manages to simultaneously sound gloriously absurd and genuinely enraged, thanks to arresting repetition of the title against Hamilton barking, “Who won the war? Was it worth fighting for?” Title notwithstanding, The Beatific Visions is a fine tonic indeed for exorcising demons, and proof that cathartic release can be one hell of a ride.