Album Review: Muzz – Muzz


Muzz




Paul Banks’ last collaboration, Banks and Steelz with Wu Tang Clan member RZA, raised a few eyebrows even though the singer had always been a hip hop addict, but given that being in Interpol seems to allow plenty of vocational time off, veering off into yet another direction was the short odds bet you never really needed to place.

Muzz are a trio in which he’s joined by former Walkmen drummer Matt Barrick and Josh Kaufman, the latter of which Banks originally met at school. Since then, his production credits include The National and The War On Drugs, whilst also holding down a nominal role as guitarist in Bonny Light Horseman. Anyone in doubt however should know Kaufman is very much a co-creative force here.

Banks doesn’t often take a back seat like this, but in form this eponymously titled debut, recorded in different sessions spread out over three years due to scheduling issues, is a more delicate and understated take on contemporary guitar rock than perhaps he’s put is name to in the past, one without his host band’s whip smart precision and unintentional hubris.

At their core, the threesome are fusing 20th century influences – Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Dylan – with a sound which lands somewhere between all of their combined talents and experiences; Barrick, for example, once played in bands in the DC Hardcore scene before pivoting to jazz. Most of time though, none of their heritage directly spills over, the languid reach of Evergreen a hazy, almost dormant ripple of gentle percussion as the waspish singer background muses.

Much of the lyrics relate to issues surrounding mental health, more specifically the spectre of depression, although the angst is often buried under classic sounding arrangements, such as on the piano led Red Western Sky or the moribund organ of Broken Tambourine. Here is a plaintive cry on which Banks has never sounded so naked, the spare words as out there as the coiled Americana: ‘As heaven marches over, hushing mind machine/I know which way to leave/Despite all my choices high on everything’.

Like many of the songs here, there’s a sepia kind of grandeur, found elsewhere on the propulsive Knuckleduster and Everywhere Like It Used To Be’s yearning romanticism, uncertainty providing the soundtrack to a fool’s errand where pride and letting loose can come before a fall.

This poise and reverie probably lands each of the three into a new place; rarely, if ever for instance, was Interpol’s music ever described as beautiful, but on All Is Dead To Me – framed by gorgeous, huggable brass – and the slightly weirder Chubby Checker, the constraints and lamentations of the past are something that should no longer concern anyone.

Supergroups nearly always yield music on which each of those involved have had to muzzle their instincts to make something anodyne enough to keep the peace; on Muzz the creators have triangulated on a feeling which turned into some notes and then a sound.



Paul Banks isn’t fond of laying down roots, but those on display here almost certainly go deeper than most.

7.5/10

Andy Peterson


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