The latest from Love in Reverse, Amygdala, springs from fight-or-flight catalysts: those triggers that make one either a hero or coward, all per a split, pill-popped second.
That means Amygdala has an edge, a ferocity and a fear to it. Its tracks cover all the human-condition basics, yanked straight from their behavioral stems.
Michael Ferentino, Andres Karu and Dave Halpern rattle listeners' nervous systems first with "Year of the Dog," a streetwise track that could act as a opening or closing anthem to a blockbuster, heist movie, but distinguished by a palpable, Marilyn Manson crawl. It paints a time when dreams have fallen through, and yet from the rubble, a vast kingdom can be still be switched for a mere kiss ... or so one hopes.
After all, there's still "The Monkey" on one's back. Its cynical but jubilant pitch details the clinging anguish that comes in the absence of a fix. It's about accepting an addiction by daring to squash it. (Easier said than done.)
"Miracle Away" offers a more melodious skip toward a dope-less life. It looks to the sun, a summer with no rain and love without pain. It's a miracle that's so close yet so far, promising salvation in light of one's medicinal crutch.
As its thematic extension, there's "One So Pretty," which further dangles the chance to be crutch-less, screaming away the deceitful illusions, even as an attractive bed of nails comes ... an opportunity that perhaps one shouldn't tread, but one pursues even as the aspiration drops dead.
"Misanthropic Mornings" is the hangover (the withdraw) that ensues. It's a ballad of hate, aimed at inhumanity, and why not? With each morose morning, unjust conflict returns, giving another reason to raise one's fists or better still, run. It tells of starry visions and evasive goals, bright but damaging, ascending and fading, as it yearns for a retreat, a permanent acquittal, but what's the point when the voices only increase?
This sense of doom leads to "The End of Us," a snappy, Poe-like lament that recalls beating a problem into the ground by reaping what one has never sowed. The voices dig deeper, bleed harder, breaking one into pieces, pushing one into the ashes ... the dust. (This may be the album's most pessimistic track, but in its sorrow, an uncanny comfort is felt.)
"Saturation" is the point of drowning through slow-burn defeat, but in its strumming, rhyming mollification, there remains an urge to battle. Here expectation through moderation is the key, as one disappears into bottomless concentration, where memory and clarity forge an endless (un)acceptable lie.
On the other side, "Jilted Again" proclaims the bald-face truth for all it's worth. It rides like a ghostly western, determined and mission-bound, perhaps to check reality, perhaps to evade its double-edged sword. It's about eschewing a lover who no longer loves ... pursuing the chance at a job, only to lose it to a fool.
"Satanic Panic" fires the infernal bullets that strike from each inevitable end. One's flesh burns from the curses witches cast, from all the putdown that life dishes over and over again. Within this sun-less crevasse, the verve becomes electrical, operatic, sadomasochistic and undisciplined.
"Underneath This Madness" is the album's last, noble breath, smooth in its sadness, patient beneath its blood and horror. In its final, poignant chords, it lets the lecherous past be, the emotional ties (and the bittersweet pills that once fed them) at long last dissolved.
Amygdala cries and decries, creating stability through chaos. Its ambivalence is sheer, unadulterated genius, stirred with austerity and ample compassion. Would one expect anything less from the magnanimous Love in Reverse?
https://orcd.co/liramy.gdala
