A couple of weeks ago, we told you that Lejsovka & Freund were preparing to release a new album. It’s called Fatal Strategies, and is intended as a companion piece to the project’s last album, Mold on Canvas. The duo have recruited a a long list of collaborators, including Yuri Popowycz on strings, Mike Silver (of CFCF) and Mike Tolan (of another WTD fave Talons’), to create something they say is “more ambitious” than the previous album.
Fatal Strategies is essentially a classical album (or neo-classical or whatever fancy people call it). I’ll admit to not listening to all that much classical music, mainly because I fear it would sail over my head, or not seem all that relevant, or something equally ignorant. But the “classical” music that Lejsovka & Freund make is different, it’s classical music that my brain seems to cling on to, to wrap itself around in a grey-furrowed hug. That’s not to say Lejsovka & Freund’s music isn’t intellectually/philosophically deep and complex, because it is. As Keith Freund puts it in his blurb:
We’re beyond excited about how it’s all panned out, hopefully others enjoy it as much. There are some different ideas, allusions, philosophies, and jokes in here but there’s really no need to belabor your listening experience with them.
Anyway, the point is that Lejsovka & Freund make classical music that does something to my brain, something I’m hardly able to process, let alone elucidate. For whatever reason, it makes me feel good. Not in a fun, dance-around-my-bedroom kind of way, but in a heartwarming, perspective-giving way. It has all the hallmarks of the genre – strings and piano and no conventional vocals, but it also feels fresh and contemporary.
Their songs have always seemed part organic and part not, subject to rhythms both mystically natural and complexly digital. Tracks are liable to fracture into pixelated shards which float off into the ether, flowing streams of countless 1s and 0s. Opener ‘Return to Emptiness’ is a great example of this. From all manner of noises – clicks and bloops and hums and whirs – comes a beautiful piano line sounding almost like the passing of time. The track stops abruptly before the end, giving way to slow quavering strings, like the unsteady laboured breaths of some strange alien life form. It’s a strong start, and a welcome reassurance that L&J are sticking to what they do best.
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‘Municipal Xerox’ coats pianos in a dusting of electrical static so tactile in headphones you can almost crunch it in your molars, continuing with intermittent swells of feedback, the piano picking up to quite a pace, something I subconsciously categorised as a watching-cityscapes-fly-by-a-train-window tempo. ‘Nothing, Just Looking at the Moon’ is another beauty, great breathy pulses preceding yet more lovely piano which sounds somehow contentedly sad (if that’s the right word), a little like the title of the song itself. ‘Debris Fields’ has this weird intro of stuttering electronics, fluttering strings and cantering piano, which descends into a period of hush, like some strange vacuum. This eventually gives way to feedback and drones and a decidedly ominous air, before a trilled set of beeps, like a supercomputer calculating some crucial formula, heralds the return of piano and pretty, elegiac strings. ‘Carry this Object’ is mostly piano-led, but also develops these strange background sounds – rustles and whispers and taps (apparently from You’re Worth It – an ASMR radio show on Berlin Community radio) – eventually clearing to reveal a woman’s voice repeating the cryptic phrase “another rectangle, an open cage”.
‘Downed Predator Souvenirs’ floats on a haze of strings and low droning piano (be sure to check Gabe Schray’s video below!), while ‘Fog in the Ravine’ has a wonderfully suitable title – tendrils of atmosphere creeping in at the start before the entrance of pianos somehow both sombre and sweeping. Closer ‘Hamburgers in the Woods’ has sounds like an errant Geiger counter or holographic raindrops bouncing on the leaves of some strange digital forest. The track (and album) then ends in vocals that seem fit for a lonely monastery or valley-sat, fire-lit campsite, but are actually soprano Megan Elk and her interpretation of the Swenson’s Galley Boy recipe.* Yes really.
Fatal Strategies inspires a multitude of strange, lateral thoughts – a soundtrack that doesn’t need a film. The musical translation of the postmodern ruminations of an over-active, twenty-first century brain. Music unearthed by a post-society people, who’ll turn it up loud and sit in their ruined cities, reclaimed by branches and vines, and wonder and wonder about us.
Fatal Strategies was released on vinyl by Bark & Hiss (US) and MIE Music (UK). You can also download it via the Lejsovka & Freund Bandcamp page.
*I had to look this up. Say hello to Swenson’s Galley Boy.
