Well blimey. After over seven years of waiting, the anticipation of Mark Lanegan’s new solo recordings has been broken somewhat earlier than expected. This first single was expected sometime next month, and yet here it is, almost completely unheralded as if to try to catch us unawares. No chance of that.
The digital age may have many downsides (lack of a third dimension being a particular bugbear of mine), but it can still provide the occasional thrill, which is why I’m sat up past midnight like a lunatic camping out for the Boxing Day sales waiting for Midnight to come and go just so that I can listen to a couple of tunes. Probably worrying behaviour, but sod it – it’s nearly Christmas and this beats sat outside Debenhams with a tartan Thermos any day of the week.
It’s been a long time since Bubblegum has been and gone, and although Mark Lanegan has certainly been busy in the time between then and now (even listing highlights would take up a huge amount of space here, so go look for yourselves, you won’t be disappointed), even though we know what he’s been sounding like with other artists, how’s he faring on his own now? The “Band” suffix would suggest a return to his, erm, recent work rather than his more acoustic earlier performances, and this is borne out immediately with the instant rush of distorted bass and an opening line of “With piranha teeth, I’ve been dreaming of you”.
Gravedigger’s Song is massive. Pushed by the bass and drums and Alain Johannes’ heavily-treated guitars, this is unmistakable Lanegan from his measured delivery, unique voice and lyrics that manage to be both impenetrable and incredibly vivid in their bizarre imagery. His voice remains calm throughout an incessantly pounding backbeat verging on electronica in its precision and weirdness, creating this very strange landscape in which to prepare his audience for his upcoming new album, and ending almost as suddenly as it began.
The flipside, Burning Jacob’s Ladder, continues in this vein – already heard in one form as part of a videogame soundtrack, this version isn’t dissimilar to the previously briefly-distributed one, but it’s as if someone’s found the button on the mixing desk that said “MAKE EVERYTHING BIGGER” and superglued it down. Reverb on both voice and instrumentation has been cranked up, drums sound like the guy who did all of Sergio Leone’s gun noises was let loose on them, and the final section is simply operatic in its scope.
So. As an indication of “hello, this is what you’ve got to look forward to in 2 months”, this is a pretty staggering seven minutes. The only shame is that this release isn’t being screamed on every frequency rather than being let out quietly. Then again, this is the sort of thing that is better released in the dark in order to hunt rather than to be paraded and exhibited. Either way, buy it.
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