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BUY THE CD
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For my boys who were in junior high (that’s right, junior high) in the mid-nineties... You remember when creating a sweet-a** beat using only your hands and your school desk was viewed as a move against the establishment? A move that could unite young men, regardless of differences, into a cacophonous band and drive our female counterparts and teachers (male or female) into the seventh circle of insanity all at the same time? Those were the days, and Brooklyn-based trio Tigue resurrects them, if only for a few precious moments, with their debut album, Peaks.
The opening number, “Cranes,” is a percussion addict’s dream, a rhythmic xanadu that keeps the beat simple and the running time long, allowing you to drift back to your classroom of choice (Ms. Tuttle) and revel in the anarchy. It’s the type of song that even sounds like it can be done on a desk—and even though in reality it can’t, I sure had fun trying. Unfortunately, it also sets the tone for expectations that aren’t met again until “Ripped”—which, in addition to being only two minutes long, is the last song on the album.
“Sitting” and “Mouth” are like a harsh reality check tag team, with “Sitting” establishing the industrial metallic sounds and monotonous keyboard/synthesizer chords and “Mouth” hammering the point home, just in case you didn’t quite get it the first time. Sure, “Mouth” has more bells and a faster pace, but those things can only go so far to hide the fact that it’s basically the same as the song before it.
“Drones” is absolutely mind-boggling. It’s a sound like a broken NBA halftime buzzer that just keeps going off and losing pitch every now and then. Then, just when you think it can’t get any worse, a new, higher pitch comes in that eventually takes over on its own, doing its holy best to grind each and every one of your brain cells down to the knub.
“Drips” is simply relief from “Drones,” a mix of static, rattling pan sounds, and eerie winds that would make a good contribution to any horror movie soundtrack. “Dress Well” is easily the third-best song on the album, thanks to the interplay between a four- and five-note mid-keyboard range quick scale, interweaving drums, and soft xylophone melodies.
“Cerulean” then provides more confusion with no real flow and an industrial grinding sound that’s reminiscent of a Transformer stretching his legs before “Ripped” leaves you feeling good at the end.
With all of its highs and lows, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this album is a little schizophrenic. But the advantage in this case is that you can always skip the bad tunes and only download the good ones. Enjoy.
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