Daniel Blumberg's first album as
Hebronix was 2013's
Unreal, an ambitious outing produced by
Neil Michael Hagerty that balanced warm college rock hooks and psychedelic guitar exploration with a mildly confessional nature. It was quite different from the grunge redux of his former band,
Yuck, but it still felt like a mature progression. The second
Hebronix album,
Liv, was given a limited issue at the end of 2018 followed by a full release a few months later, but it was actually recorded over a three-day session in 2014.
Blumberg was joined by violinist Billy Steiger, double bassist Tom Wheatley, and Kohhei Matsuda of
Bo Ningen on monosynth, and the album was recorded live with sax and vocal overdubs added subsequently.
Blumberg has played with these musicians at Cafe Oto, one of London's primary venues for free jazz and experimental music, and the album is more improvisatory than any of his past work. It's plainly obvious why the album wasn't released soon after its recording --
Blumberg wasn't ready to foist this upon his audience, and the world wasn't ready to hear it. This is an utterly bleak, uncompromising album expressing deep suspicion, jealousy, and hurt. Harsh and harrowing, its five pieces are filled with scorching feedback, snapping bass, and scraping, wheezing strings. There's no drums, as they just would've trampled over everything, but the musicians' playing is so visceral that it sounds percussive anyway. While there are moments of relative solace, such as "Digital," some of it verges on a total panic attack. At times, the inspired wreckage sounds like
the Dead C attempting to make spiritual jazz. Elsewhere, particularly with the affecting "Off and On," it's like a more abrasive, art-damaged version of '90s sadcore. Most cathartic of all is the 16-minute "Caught," which rolls on like a flaming ship that somehow manages to stay afloat as everyone is panicking. Culminating in several minutes of smothering, red-needled feedback chaos, it strips down to just
Blumberg and his guitar for a brief moment, providing a chance for brooding reflection before the storm blasts back again.
Liv makes far more sense arriving in the wake of
Blumberg's 2018 solo effort,
Minus, than it would've any time before that album's release. Featuring some of the musicians who played on
Liv as well as
Dirty Three drummer Jim White, it was a meticulously crafted work of raw, unnerving honesty.
Liv is in a similar vein, but far more bracing, and even less likely to make sense to fans of
Blumberg's earlier bands. For those with a strong will, however, it's an uncommonly powerful experience, and deserves attention. ~ Paul Simpson