The story of Lip Critic’s second album, Theft World, is a strange one indeed. While their widely acclaimed debut, Hex Dealer, turned heads for its manic, danceable rhythms, their new album is driven by a bizarre, real-life conceptual crisis. During a previous tour, an obsessed fan stole Kaser’s identity to purchase the band’s entire discography, fueled by the idea that the group was broadcasting hidden, coded messages specifically to him. Rather than pursuing swift legal action, Lip Critic chose to interview the fan about his conspiracy theories. Those recordings became the inspiration for a whole new collection of songs.
The resulting album is a clattering, shellacking of noise with frontman Bret Kaser standing in the centre like a preacher standing on the precipice of sanity. By melding crashing drums and unpredictable electronics, Lip Critic craft a chaotic sonic landscape where guitars are completely obsolete, dropping beats and distorted hooks like crockery falling out of a cupboard. The songs are connected by a litany of down-at-heel, guilt-ridden characters who both accept their fate and rage against its unfairness. The result is a thrillingly paranoid portrait of postmodern hyperreality that demands your absolute attention.
Opener “Two Lucks” begins in malevolent fashion as droning chords give way to glitchy electronics, pounding drums and churning bass. As the chaos rages around him, Kaser somehow manages to elbow enough room for a suitably manic chorus before ripping his vocal cords to shreds as the song lurches to its conclusion. The whole thing sets up the overarching themes of obsession, self-destruction and the limitations of our digital saturation.
“Jackpot” melds the same dual-drummer energy with twitchy electronics and slot machine samples. As the cacophonous blitz rages around him, Kaser articulates the compelling tale of a gambling addict dangerously spiralling out of control. The volatile musical mix, coupled with Kaser’s increasing paranoia, makes it one of the band’s strongest tracks to date.
“Debt Forest” collides with the eardrums on a frantic dance-punk tune where every sound jostles for space. Driven by their signature pounding drumming, the song takes pot shots at modern capitalist society and its insatiable avarice. Riding a single droning chord, “Talon” gradually pulls in blaring synths and wild drums before Kaser unleashes a blood-curdling black metal growl straight from the netherworld.
“Charity Dinner” reins in the chaos as the band goes all-out with NYC dance-punk, sounding like LCD Soundsystem after a coffee enema. Musically, the band wrap a hip-shaking groove over Kaser’s apathetic post-punk vocals. With a hook so strong you could hang an oil tanker off it, it could well be one of the breakout songs from the album. ‘Drumming with Izzy’ adds some unexpected afrobeat to the digital mix with Kaser punching each syllable out. It highlights the band’s desire to push their sound forward.
The hyperactive, “My Blush (Strength of the Critic)” leans into Kaser’s mania with mutated beats providing the frame for his increasingly feral couplets: “Flesh and blood and my name / Scattered out in that fine mist / We aerosol the ravine.” “Shoplifting” is another wild ride, with discordant electronics and crashing drums, served with an unexpected sprinkling of R&B. Kaser comes across as an apocalyptic prophet as he reflects on how religion has been replaced by greed, and how any sense of individualism is steadily eradicated by the homogeneity of global consumerism.
“Legs in a Snare” is probably the standout track on the record. Like the musical equivalent of a full-on seizure, the song serves as a twisted love story, exploring the dark desperation of dependency and unrequited love. It adds another layer of intrigue to their music, making it a stunningly effective tune.
The music equivalent of a bag of vipers thrown onto a hotplate, “Yard Sale (23D Take)” is an angry mix of venomous beats and furious drums, while album closer, “200 Bottles on Eviction” pulls all the threads of the album together perfectly. Electronics shift from ambient drone to jarring chaos as the drums pound, as if their very existence depends on it. Vocally, Kaser delivers rapid-fire, preacher-like vocals that give way to an unfiltered black metal growl, as if a dark entity were slowly consuming him. It’s a suitably crazed ending to an album that is as unpredictable as it is thrilling.
Lip Critic’s Theft World is a consummate lesson in beautifully structured chaos. Musically, a lot rests on their signature mix of thumping twin drum kits and warped electronics, but it is a sound honed to maximum effect. Genres are unceremoniously smashed together, with hardcore punk, club rhythms and hyper-pop all vying for attention. However, it is Kaser who holds it together like some kind of deranged circus ringleader. Theft World may require some time spent in a dark, quiet room after listening, but it’s one hell of a ride.