Nausea. Nausea. The idea of some kind of eternal, unshakeable sickness is nothing new to those indie bedroom sittin', new wavin', post punkin' loners. At the end of The Cure's 1982 masterpiece Pornography, Robert Smith declared that he had to "fight this sickness" (before offering the very tongue in cheek, "and find the cure"), and continued down the same road of nausea inflected music for the rest of their career. Hell, even Elvis Costello's brilliant This Year's Model has lyrics about "throwing up in the dark". Where I can't quote any off the top of my head, it would be simply asinine to assume that Morrissey never sang a song about a stomachache or two.
However, Craft Spells main man, Justin Paul Vallesteros, sings of a different kind of sickness on the band's long awaited sophomore LP, Nausea; it's not as steeped in violence and depression like The Cure, and not as witty as Costello's finest work. Let it be said, that 2011's modest Idle Labor proved to be my favorite of that whole year, overshadowing (still great) albums by Bon Iver, M83 and Girls. Which in retrospect, comes off as strange. How could a thirty minute, drum machine laden, synthpop record prove to be as monumental as some of those aforementioned works? It's attributed to Vallesteros himself, and his sense of honesty, which differed from many other revivalists of the year. Idle Labor had a somewhat typical narrative arc: boy loses girl, boy meets another girl, boy loses that girl as well, boy realizes he should try and spend some time alone. Stories about parties, making out, sitting in bedrooms with doors shut and fog, all over buoyant new wave instrumentation actually makes for a compelling listen.
Unfortunately, Vallesteros' next step as Craft Spells found him stumbling a bit, as he released the mini album, Gallery. The same synthpop formula grew increasingly stale as tracks like "Sun Trails" inexcusably grated on and on. Ever the perfectionist, Vallesteros has admitted to disliking his first two releases under the Craft Spells guise and upon relocating to sunny San Francisco, found himself increasingly alienated by the indulgence of social media and the modern day music landscape. To write the sketches of what would later become Nausea, Vallesteros decamped to his parents' house in suburban California, taking his whole studio with him. The most surprising part of an already complicated album process was Vallesteros' decision to quit playing guitar for a year, composing the majority of the songs on piano, which he taught himself to play in that same year.
So as the title track swirls to life, there's almost a palpable sense of change in the air, pushed along by a piano, live drums (!) and Vallesteros' crooning voice. Idle Labor's sonic palette felt sometimes unnecessarily limited, but every song on Nausea blooms in comparison. The echoing piano from "Dwindle" sounds as if it's culled directly from Wilco's "Ashes of American Flags", before the song reaches it's swaggering chamber pop midsection. Early highlight "Komorebi" plays like The Cure's "Untitled" engulfing a lesser known Elephant 6 Recording Company artist with it's crashing hi-hats and earworm of a flute loop. The album's most surprising cut, "If I Could", stands out the most for it's muted trip-hop influences, sounding more like King Krule or Tricky than The Radio Dept.
Where Vallesteros also struggled as a vocalist (operating some plateau between a flat Morrissey, Ian Curtis and Jens Lekman), he manages to find some solid footing on Nausea, as his somewhat thin vocals are able to homogenize with the lush and deep instrumentals to an impeccable degree. As Vallesteros' voice floats through the ether, one can hear shades of Robert Smith, Ian Brown, and even Stuart Murdoch at his least fey.
The post-break mope fog might have convinced Vallesteros to cloak his voice in reverb on past recordings, and while still heavily reverberated at times, the vocals are brought more to the forefront, cutting through the mix. Where the lyrics don't provide the same immediacy and relatability of Idle Labor, they still yearn with existential dread and confusion. The title Nausea stems from an inability to deal with modern day society, and a desire to return to whatever world you may have created for yourself. So as Vallesteros sings "this is all I have left to feel", on "Laughing for My Life", it feels like a cry for help rather than a placeholder; similar to the record's best song, "Twirl", in which Vallesteros laments about not knowing what to do over a guitar primed for liftoff in the chorus, which races along as fast as Vallesteros' thoughts (even the jaunty organ solo can't offset the sadness which permeates deep). Some previous territory still ends up being explored however, such as "First Snow", whose vocal melody is borrowed from Craft Spells' still biggest hit, "After the Moment", not out of laziness, but to provide a morning after counterpart, as the solemn piano carries Vallesteros' voice along, sounding lonely as possible.
The ambiguity of such a record as Nausea may be the one true offputting for some, but in the context of Vallesteros' back catalogue, and the record's themes, it proves to be a worthy aspect. When Vallesteros sings of "changing faces" (on the song of the same name), it can apply to a number of different things: social malaise, the frustrations of everyday life, the fresh wounds of the dissolution of a romantic relationship. Same goes for the penultimate track, "Breaking the Angle Against the Tide"; it's the most immediate of the batch, rendered so by weeping strings and a catchy as hell guitar riff (the one true "rock out" moment the record has). Vallesteros sings "in the heart of haze / it's hard to cry / so stay inside... you've wasted too much of time", which comes off as spiteful and venom tinged, but in the essence of the best Craft Spells songs, finds himself moving on from what has plagued him for the past thirty five plus minutes-- this time being the inner turmoil all must experience at some time.
Craft Spells - Nausea
8.5/10
Recommended Tracks - "Nausea", Komorebi", "Changing Faces", "Twirl", "Laughing for My Life", "First Snow", "Breaking the Angle Against the Tide"
Unfortunately, Vallesteros' next step as Craft Spells found him stumbling a bit, as he released the mini album, Gallery. The same synthpop formula grew increasingly stale as tracks like "Sun Trails" inexcusably grated on and on. Ever the perfectionist, Vallesteros has admitted to disliking his first two releases under the Craft Spells guise and upon relocating to sunny San Francisco, found himself increasingly alienated by the indulgence of social media and the modern day music landscape. To write the sketches of what would later become Nausea, Vallesteros decamped to his parents' house in suburban California, taking his whole studio with him. The most surprising part of an already complicated album process was Vallesteros' decision to quit playing guitar for a year, composing the majority of the songs on piano, which he taught himself to play in that same year.
Where Vallesteros also struggled as a vocalist (operating some plateau between a flat Morrissey, Ian Curtis and Jens Lekman), he manages to find some solid footing on Nausea, as his somewhat thin vocals are able to homogenize with the lush and deep instrumentals to an impeccable degree. As Vallesteros' voice floats through the ether, one can hear shades of Robert Smith, Ian Brown, and even Stuart Murdoch at his least fey.
The post-break mope fog might have convinced Vallesteros to cloak his voice in reverb on past recordings, and while still heavily reverberated at times, the vocals are brought more to the forefront, cutting through the mix. Where the lyrics don't provide the same immediacy and relatability of Idle Labor, they still yearn with existential dread and confusion. The title Nausea stems from an inability to deal with modern day society, and a desire to return to whatever world you may have created for yourself. So as Vallesteros sings "this is all I have left to feel", on "Laughing for My Life", it feels like a cry for help rather than a placeholder; similar to the record's best song, "Twirl", in which Vallesteros laments about not knowing what to do over a guitar primed for liftoff in the chorus, which races along as fast as Vallesteros' thoughts (even the jaunty organ solo can't offset the sadness which permeates deep). Some previous territory still ends up being explored however, such as "First Snow", whose vocal melody is borrowed from Craft Spells' still biggest hit, "After the Moment", not out of laziness, but to provide a morning after counterpart, as the solemn piano carries Vallesteros' voice along, sounding lonely as possible.
The ambiguity of such a record as Nausea may be the one true offputting for some, but in the context of Vallesteros' back catalogue, and the record's themes, it proves to be a worthy aspect. When Vallesteros sings of "changing faces" (on the song of the same name), it can apply to a number of different things: social malaise, the frustrations of everyday life, the fresh wounds of the dissolution of a romantic relationship. Same goes for the penultimate track, "Breaking the Angle Against the Tide"; it's the most immediate of the batch, rendered so by weeping strings and a catchy as hell guitar riff (the one true "rock out" moment the record has). Vallesteros sings "in the heart of haze / it's hard to cry / so stay inside... you've wasted too much of time", which comes off as spiteful and venom tinged, but in the essence of the best Craft Spells songs, finds himself moving on from what has plagued him for the past thirty five plus minutes-- this time being the inner turmoil all must experience at some time.
Craft Spells - Nausea
8.5/10
Recommended Tracks - "Nausea", Komorebi", "Changing Faces", "Twirl", "Laughing for My Life", "First Snow", "Breaking the Angle Against the Tide"
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