Imitation surfing seems as improbable a concept as an
Intelligence album that isn't entirely encrusted in distortion and static, but that's exactly what
Fake Surfers offers. While
Lars Finberg's music became incrementally less noisy on earlier
Intelligence albums, this set of songs takes a big step in that direction -- which comes as something of a shock, given how easily
Deuteronomy balanced the
Intelligence's abrasive sonics and weird tales with clean(er) production, and how popular similarly noisy bands like
No Age and In the Red labelmates
the Blank Dogs became in the late 2000s. Of course, saturated sounds are still a key part of the
Intelligence's music: "Tower" cloaks clever wordplay in ultra-distorted drums, and "Saint Bartolomeu"'s dual vocals and data-panicking synths hark back to
Brainiac's glory days. It's just that
Finberg and company (which includes
the Lamps' Monty Buckles and
Christmas Island's Brian Carver this time around) don't go for the jugular on songs like "Debt & ESP," which would easily fit on
Icky Baby or
Boredom and Terror with the addition of a few decibels. It would also be easy to read
Fake Surfers' subdued sound as a reaction to what
Finberg has done before and what his peers are doing -- "Fuck Eat Skull" attempts to start a feud with the likeminded Portland band
Eat Skull, but since Beren Ekine Huett plays in both bands, it's likely not a serious beef. However, the
Intelligence remains as mysterious as ever, if not more so, on
Fake Surfers. Even the most immediate songs aren't exactly direct, and the prevailing mood is sullen boredom: song titles like "The Unessential Cosmic Perspective" and "Thank You God for Fixing the Tape Machine" drip with sarcasm; on "Singles Barge,"
Finberg sings like he's scrubbing the deck with a sneer; and "South Bay Surfers" could very well be a vintage surf instrumental played at half-speed as
Finberg chants "I'm tired of fake surfing/It affects me/And I'm affected" over it. Actually, a lot of the album sounds like fake surf rock, which makes sense considering how much of the
Intelligence's brilliantly simple hooks and melodies feel directly descended from rock's primordial days, even when they're under piles of noise. "Universal Babysitter"'s riff is sprightly enough to do the twist to, while the cover of Wounded Lion's tribute to satyrs and centaurs, "Pony People," is so bouncy and appealing that it could almost pass for a slab of early-'60s novelty pop. "Warm Transfers," perhaps the album's catchiest and snarkiest track, turns strummy acoustic guitars, whistling, and feedback into an ironic frolic. While
Fake Surfers might not have the immediate impact of
Finberg's earlier albums, but it takes his music in some bold directions without losing its smart-alecky, catchy-despite-itself essence. ~ Heather Phares