A new, Michael Ferentino album was expected and needed. The enriching God Is Listening: Prelude to a Possible Sonic Future fills the bill by opening the mind to unique, encircling vibes and profound, paradoxical phrases. Above all, the tracks link one unexpected component to another, creating what Clive Barker would call "the great and secret show." (In the end, every influential element, whether big or small, rich or poor, determines where we go, despite the passage being unclear, like pieces of a puzzle coming near, or at least this is my take on Ferentino's venture.)
Parts of the album spring from a pop-cultural position, with twists upon names (titles) that have come to define our lives, made by appreciative (if not transcendental) mortals, all for God's discerning ears.
For example, "9-inch Sgt. Pepper" works as if the Beatles concocted a neo-Matrix, dance-floor mix, smacking of Lennon's sarcasm (though done through robotic reinterpretation), and yet it's all Ferentino, drumming and chugging along, "putting it on the wrong way" as he presses his sonic-era sweep.
"M. Night Shyamalan" is an obvious homage to the writer/director, who's become a next-stage Serling for his clever catches. Ferentino's tune morphs itself much in Shyamalan's style, injecting an ode to irony at each piano-tingling turn. As one listens, one can feel the dimensional rift, the underlying sensation that one's ordinary stable is tumbling into an extraordinary circumstance.
"Never Darken My Door Again" clucks like a rapper's tongue, but pushed through a howling filter. This one sounds tribal, drawing a line in the sand, but having fun with its "punch in the ... face" telegraph. In other words, it implies holding one's head high to squash the haters when they dish their unjust dirt.
"Celebrity Ass Kisser (Sychophant)" is a further denouncement of those haters, shuffling, slumping and banging in its condemnation of saps who look to others for approval. It besmirches being a government marionette, persuading one from prostituting oneself for some lame-duck, Faustian endorsement.
"Wide" establishes an altogether different terrain, where one floats in the computing refrain of simultaneous denial and acceptance. It asks one to open wide, to reveal what one holds inside, letting it all unfurl for the world to see, forging yet another facet of revolt and with it, essential self-awareness.
"Snark Chide of the Croon" is the rebuttal that one's opponents toss. In this instance, Ferentino's voice wavers with intoxication, mocking the slap-back with a culminating, laser-beamed assault.
"Sacristy" extends the beam farther as it returns to an exotic, dance drive, though this time it slips a rubbery quip, for in truth, it references depletion, emptiness ... dissatisfaction. It takes what little there is and makes it something more.
"Cool Pool" presents a severe strangeness that dares to buck its placid label. There's a stream of damnation in its carefree guise, and to perpetuate this, the music trumpets like Charlie Brown's judgmental teacher, the lyrics warning of those outer, red flags that drag one down. (One needs to take the big dip and "get the f.... out of Dodge.")
"Little Head" takes a silky, jazzy approach, pleading to be taken where frustration doesn't exist. As its hypnotic draw builds, this one feels like an impassioned prayer from a small, humble heart, searching for a cure to one's despair, and because of its anxious reach, it plays more hopeful than not.
"Adore" is hip as hell: an ideal punctuation for the album, where one ends up on the floor, tired and beaten like a discarded whore, begging to be adored. It's a reply of sorts to "Celebrity Ass Kisser," but in this case, it's the singer (the narrator) who demands the adoration. However, the recipient of the plea expresses firm rejection, wanting to "smash (one's) fingers in the door." The outcome is dire and cuts off fast, but its sting lingers, enough to infiltrate the other tracks, if one goes back and re-listens.
Whether at life's commencement or close, God is Listening ... serves both epic ends, but does so nibble by nibble, chunk by chunk, blending it all into a magical mesh. It's a concept album in the sincerest form, just like the old-school masters wrote, ascending from the remnants of the past to seize a stellar future. (And to think, this is only the first part of Ferentino's scheme; one can only imagine how the other pieces will fit when one greets round two.)
Play God Is Listening: Prelude to a Possible Sonic Future at
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_lMllL02ObGh4AeOoPIF5S3obW3u2-4T3Y
