Disappears Appear With Pre Language

Ever since Brian Case (The Ponys) made the decision to moonlight, his new band has been churning out music with a wildly heady and psychical blend of psychedelic rock, post-punk, and krautrock. Some might even say that the band has found more focus with the release of their newest installment this year.

I don't know if focus fits Pre Language. The album is an exercise in nine rhythm-filled tracks of consistent tension. It's clearly more primal than Guider. There is also more grim repetition, trudging along with a purposeful dullness that will make some people miss the aggression found in their first two releases.

The Disappears didn't hold back on Guider. They hold back plenty on Pre Language. 

The decision to make a repetitively fuzzy album is not without its appeal. The Chicago-based foursome start off with the right track too.

Replicate has a beat-driven and bassy lowness that teases how much this album won't be as propulsive as their last. It hardly matters. Most of the songs beg for you to get lost in every quaking moment.

The twist is that instead of making you wait for the tension to explode, Replicate (and many of the songs on Pre Language) feel like one big wind down. The songs never explode, and most never get going either. There are only moments when the music sounds like it might break away from itself before it descends back down into the steady-handed abyss of murkiness that defines it.



While many anticipate that Replicate might be a warmup, it's better to sum this song up as the spirit of the album. The title track, Pre Language, alludes to something more at the start with its early build and hazy grooviness played out in a minor key. The lyrics are tight, nearly spoken instead of punched by Case. It doesn't last despite the menace.

Pre-Language is drummer Steve Shelley's first time in the studio with the band.

As this is the first album that Steve Shelley (Sonic Youth) stepped into the studio to make with the band, one might wonder also how much influence he added into the mix beyond the heavy kick drum. His talent is still unquestionable. But here, it's anybody's guess how much and for what reason so much of it is kept in reserve. The drumming is big, heavy, and nearly prehistoric.

The same can be said about Damon Carruesco and Jonathan van Herik. And that is the point or maybe part of it. In reality, the album aims to be less of a wind down and more of a slow wind up. If you can imagine music taking a shift from clear to amped up several decades ago, then you might appreciate the appetite to play the same set of scruffy chords over and over, and then another set over and over.

It has such a hypnotic effect at times that some songs make snapping at the end seem smarter than clapping. And yet, it all works wonderfully well because every small change is heard. The song Joa does this brilliantly.

The Disappears play Joa with such a consistent measure that any break from the repetition feels welcome. Hibernation Sickness is the same. It slams away, introducing a momentary lapse into a brief, blissfully melodic riff before returning to the chugging and frantic build. And then, when it comes close to what feels like it will be something dizzying ... it just ends.

Fear Of Darkness is more atmospheric in that regard, although it too contains an anti-climatic end after a sensational build (with some Sonic Youth influences). Still, the linear approach to almost everything really does carry the desired effect. Brother Joliene is especially better for it. There is something darker and sinister tucked inside it, because the smile you hear is really a smirk.

Pre Language By The Disappears Beats 4.2 On The Liquid Hip Richter Scale.

Pre Language is better than the average dose of haziness, but only in small doses. The best bet on this album is to pick three or four tracks and tuck them inside a playlist with more diversity. It might sound like a strange way to listen, but it makes everything better. While everyone else tries so hard, songs like Replicate, Joa, and Brother Joliene break up the greater monotony with, oddly enough, repetition.

Pre Language can be downloaded from iTunes or order the CD from Barnes & Noble. Pre Language by the Disappears is also on Amazon. If you prefer a little more aggression over the aftermath, start with Guider and work your way down.

Disappears Makes Guider A Fuzzy Wonderment

One of the best things to come out of Chicago lately is the scuzzy hypnotic grooves of the Disappears. With nothing but heady, shoegaze guitars and a rhythm that rarely deviates from its naked essentials, they go one better than paying homage to the 1970s experimental krautrock scene. Disappears improves upon it without feeling a need to eschew the term.

It does everything you want the sound to do, with its post-psychedelic jamming, moody progressive rock, and experimental punkish pickups that trudge and chug along. It makes for some impressive music making, but plays even better live when the band breaks away from anything an audience might expect. They don't hold back.

An unapologetic experiment in propulsive sameness.

If anybody else would have put out Guider, it would have never worked. Compared to their first Kranky outing, Lux, Guider has narrowed to become even more incessant, especially in their delivery of the continuously even-handed nearly 16-minute long track Revisiting, cut in one take.

After being formed in 2009 by Brian Case (formerly 90 Day Men and currently The Ponys) and Graeme Gibson (formally Boas) who partnered to record the earliest songs written by Case, they added Jonathan van Herik (also Boas) and Damon Carruesco. When Gibson left to invest more time with The Fruit Bats, Case called Steve Shelley (formerly Sonic Youth), never expecting him to join. Shelley did, adding even more allure to the solid lineup.

"The idea is to get something going. To get to where the music becomes physical almost," Case said in an interview last year. "We call it the bliss-out part of the song–everything is going and it's just happening."

I don't hear too many people say this outside the Beat Generation with jazz (and maybe Bardo Pond). But the Disappears don't just talk about it. They actually do it, sometimes in no time at all. Of the five shorter songs, Superstition is packed tightly in under two minutes. The shortness not only makes it a success, it also leaves everyone wanting more.


Superstition is one of a dozen examples of what Case means when he talks about trying to make these songs physical. The repetitive beats wash over, building and building until you want them to explode. They never do. They just build up the tenseness and flow from one track to the next.

Along with Superstition, Not Romantic and the title track, Guider, are among the strongest, all for their driving steadiness. Halo is okay and New Fast is tired. There are five more songs expected to be out soon, most of them played during their European tour in February. They will be releasing them (get this) on cassette before weeding out which ones will land on some future LP.

Guider Disappears In All The Right Ways With 7.8 On The Liquid Hip Richter Scale.

The Disappears is the kind of band you put on anytime you want to hear something that sounds like nobody else. Even from my own take that they're a little bit krautrock and a little bit punk, they really aren't any of it. They just play until they get "it."

You can pick up Guider at iTunes. Amazon has Guider and Barnes & Noble also carries the album. They will be playing Chicago on March 22. I'm watching for their next LP.