Chris Connelly - "The Episodes"

Chris Connelly - The Son of Empty Sam (Durtro Jnana 2007)

Chris Connelly – The Episodes / Durtro Jnana

Even today, more than fifteen years since he stepped out from the menacing shadows of the industrial scene he was so deftly intertwined within (Ministry, KMFDM, Pigface, Revolting Cocks, Murder, Inc.), dread-locked, leather-clad fans still show up to Chris Connelly’s solo shows hoping to hear that sinister scream. The realistic probability is that since they have clung on this long, there is no hope in evolving their tastes; but hopefully, these diehard fans will be turned on to the musically matured Connelly, the singer/songwriter with aged poetic lyricism and the insatiable craving to experiment. Sorry, the roaring heavy metal guitar riffs and pounding aggression are all but dissolved, but the passion and urgency is still easily heard, even though it may now be channeled through acoustic guitar strums and lyrical tropes. Connelly’s solo outings have been gaining momentum since the melodic Whiplash Boychild confused industrialites everywhere in the wake of Pigface's debut album in 1991. 2004’s highly acclaimed Night of Your Life on Invisible Records seemed like an apex for the Chicago-based Scot, but that was before the Everyoned project conjured a musical relationship with fellow Windy City innovators Tim Kinsella (Joan of Arc, Cap’n Jazz, Make Believe, Owls) and Ben Vida (Town and Country, Pillow, Terminal 4, Bird Show). There are still sonic experiments to be had and Connelly has reinvented his sound once again with his latest release, The Episodes.

The most striking aspect of The Episodes is its incredibly acoustic and dense atmosphere. Connelly and his talented cast of supporting characters fill each track to the brim with consciously monochromatic yet sprawling arrangements and opt for patiently developing, wholly organic songs. On paper, it is an odd collection of characteristics: Connelly’s creaking, Bowie-like croon emoting over an almost tribal circle of plodding toms, single-chord acoustic guitar strums, twinkling vibraphones, Vida’s teasing electric guitar noodles, occasional synth base lines, free jazz-leaning drum kits, sparse electronic tinges and even a mandolin (to name just a few). Yes, when they play it is chaotic, but in the strategically sloppy manner Kinsella has been perfecting for years and under Connelly’s elegant direction. All of the manic instrumentation combines into one throbbing, hypnotic background with the passionate narratives leading the way. It’s urgent, enigmatic and intense music that takes multiple spins to even begin to unveil.

The Episodes clocks in at just less than one hour, but there are only seven tracks involved. Ignoring the poignant two-minute coda, each track spans uncompromisingly with “Henry Vs Miller” being the spry, jazzy eleven-and-a-half minute centerpiece. If Scott Walker had hooked up with Soft Machine, it may have sounded somewhat similar. “Son of Empty Sam” may be the integral track of the album though as Connelly narrates a haunting tale of conceding to insanity as the music follows suit. Building from simple acoustic guitar strums, the song escalates for five minutes before threshold is broken and just ranting, pansophical voices are left. In simple terms, the protagonist has lost it. The second half picks up where the first section left off, but seemingly in a much more visceral manner. “The Ghost has an Orchestra” does nothing to dispose of the omniscient Bowie comparisons, but I seriously doubt Ziggy has ever been so hypnotic and tribal. And album opener “Mirror Lips” excels wonderfully with Connelly’s endearing tale being sung over a backdrop of shimmering acoustics and multi-layered hand percussion.

“Soul Boys/Hard Legends” is of special note because it was field recorded in a secluded forest of Wisconsin (conveniently pictured under the disc trey). If you thought the other songs were innately tribal, this completely solidifies the feeling. A loose, spooky piece, it does not quite live up to its accompanying album tracks, but certainly an interesting interlude following the epic “Henry Vs Miller.”

With such a diverse and unpredictable history already in place, it is really not that much of a surprise to hear Connelly reinvent himself once again on The Episodes, but certainly a much welcomed notch in his already world-worn belt. The album really burrows into your consciousness. On first listen, I was impressed but not hooked, but with each consecutive spin both music and lyrics unveiled another layer of depth. And it plods hypnotically, not really relying on one individual’s over-indulgent musicianship, but letting each player contribute just enough to affect the whole with an idiosyncratic charm. It is very like a Jackson Pollock painting where his spattering, seemingly random assortment of color and technique would dry into a brilliant, moving and undeniably preconceived piece of art.