On the current scale of Japanese-female-fronted indie-rock acts, Enon are slightly less precious than Deerhoof, slightly less dreamy than Blonde Redhead (of whom Enon’s Toko Yasuda used to be a member) and slightly less shoegazey than Asobi Seksu. However, on their fourth proper full-length and first release since 2003’s Hocus Pocus, the Brooklyn trio prove they can rock harder than all of the above and still assemble a consistent collection of songs.
Since introducing Yasuda into the flock with 2002’s excellent High Society, Enon’s sound has existed in flux, skirting from grungy garage and shimmering synth-pop to spastic attacks à la singer-guitarist John Schmersal’s former band Brainiac and more alien, industrial experiments. For Grass Geysers Carbon Clouds, this approach is streamlined, straightforward and far less eclectic, with a renewed emphasis on rock ’n’ roll and the vocal duties split fairly equally.
“Mirror On You” kicks the album into gear with an echoed army of Yasudas, falsetto singing from Schmersal, fuzz bass, handclaps and razor-sharp riffage — all in under two minutes. “Collette” keeps the pace with Toko taking the spotlight, and some extra oomph from mushroom-cut-sporting drummer Matt Schulz. “Dr. Freeze” rounds out the opening trio with danceable, driving disco beats and splashes of suitably chilly electronics.
“Sabina” is the first song here with both Yasuda and Schmersal singing together. While it’s fairly catchy, it’s also ultimately skippable. “Peace of Mind” provides a frenetic interlude with its almost-twangy, in-the-red guitar line, stop-start percussion and vocals shouted more than sung. Schmersal’s distorted vox on “Law of Johnny Doolittle” bring to mind an update of High Society’s “Native Numb” until Yasuda steals the mic midway through, turning the song into an album standout.
After the minute-and-a-half throwaway “Those Who Don’t Blink,” Grass Geysers shoots into its strongest three-song stretch. Toko’s skeletal voice slices perfectly through the marching-band snare rolls and stabbing guitars of “Pigeneration,” while “Mr. Ratatatatat” includes both singers in a Sonic Youth soundscape. “Paperweights” takes the cake however, with hypnotizing synth sounds, ground-pounding bass and the most head-sticking tune of these 12 tracks.
By the time the Blonde Redhead-sound-alike closer “Ashish” rears its head, the album’s 35 minutes seem like they’ve slipped by far too quickly. Some may miss the more varied nature of Enon’s earlier efforts, but for the rest, this undiluted offering will serve as a short, sweet synthesis that sticks to the band’s strengths.
