By Jamal Stone
2014 marks Blonde Redhead’s 20th anniversary, but Barragán is no retrospective. The album’s title alludes to the clean lines and colors of Modernist Mexican architect Luis Barragán. Barragán’s monoliths invigorated the industrialized bustle of Mexico, standing tall like sand-brushed Lego pieces. But without a noisy backdrop, Blonde Redhead’s minimalist approach to songwriting feels oddly sterile – a step backwards for a band with a history in noise rock and shoegaze.
Even vocalist Kazu Makino’s breathy singing, Blonde Redhead’s established fulcrum, is damaged by the ineffectual production. “Cat on a Tin Roof” strips Makino of her ethereality; we encounter her in the corner of a dingy karaoke bar instead of some floating echo chamber. Here, minimalism is confused for cleanliness. The very next track, “The One I Love” is a standout because it’s unafraid to disrupt the melody, with stabs of noise and reverb forcing the listener to take heed. Unfortunately, these driving songs are too few. For the most part, Barragán seems unsure of its foundation – a strange cocktail of Italian discofox, ambient noise, minimalist pop rock, and improvisational electronica.
Barragán includes plenty of other Modernist-era references – “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” and “To Kill A Mockingbird”, for example – but none of the historical context. Modernism is reactionary. Barragán, by and large, feels lazy. It’s a sad thought, but, after the innocuousness of Blonde Redhead’s last album, Penny Sparkle, it’s hard to shake the notion that the band has found themselves in their third act. I’d love to hear an album where Makino and company find their venom again – slithering melancholia and windswept guitars. Comparatively, Barragán is an album defanged, best fit for the internal monologues found while waiting in a Starbucks queue.
5/10
