Pitchfork

As a long-time Björk fan, I had meant to listen to The Sugarcubes for years but was wary of Einar Orn Benediktsson-- the Sugarcubes' other vocalist-- who I'd been warned was positively excruciating. Eventually, I found a copy of Stick Around for Joy at my local library, and about halfway through the first song, I was wrapped up in Björk's wild croon and the band's general pop acumen. I'd forgotten all about the warnings... until Einar came out swinging with doofus chants and the whole song went to hell. I imagined I'd be able to get through it if he didn't crop up on every song. The problem is that he does, and he ruins an otherwise fantastic band in the process. The point being: If you have one amazing vocalist, why allow anyone else to compromise it?

This is a question D.C.'s Black Eyes should probably address; they've got their very own Einar. And even in light of their deconstructionist, anarchic approach, I can't see why the rest of the Black Eyes let him open his mouth. I would give the guy's name, but frankly I don't know it: Black Eyes are one of those uber-democratic bands that operate on a first-name basis only with no instrument credits in the liners. Rather, they let their two drummers/two bassists/sax/guitar/vocals/etc. lineup speak for itself as one, which allows this guy and his extremely unpleasant, wavering caterwaul to hide behind relative anonimity. At least he has the decency not to show up until the fourth track.

Now, when you play in a band whose most obvious influences are D.C. post-hardcore and free jazz progressive noise like This Heat (and punks might not like to admit this, but that sax style was first developed in bands like King Crimson, Plastic People of the Universe, and Van Der Graaf Generator), it's difficult to make yourself into such a sore thumb that you ruin the chaos, yet somehow, this singer manages to do just that. And the real tragedy is that his is the only attribute on the whole record that doesn't work-- the band's principle vocalist has one of those classic Dischord voices that's a little shredded when it needs to be, but is mostly solid and forceful, a commanding baritone/tenor that he can put to a melody or rapid-fire sing-speak with equal facility. So there's really no need for the other guy in the first place. Plus, the guitars and saxes do plenty of listenable shrieking as it is-- Black Eyes are a confrontational band and their potent blasts of funky Ornette Coleman punk and no-wave sheets of feedback are visceral and gripping.

The band's good vocalist holds up his end admirably, although his words typically fly by in a hyperkinetic blur, and his performance on "Drums"-- the record's third and best track-- is absolutely insane. He's talking more quickly than most people can think here, and the band's sick, brutal cacophony coalesces into a serrated blade that cuts a thousand ways-- from the funky bassline that kicks in around 1:15 to the nasty, dryly recorded sax that flays the groove from front to back and the blanket of guitar feedback that hangs low in the mix. Even the songs with that other vocalist, the powerful whorl of percussion and frequent dub inflections (especially on "Scrapes & Scratches") is enough to overwhelm the band's one shortcoming.

That Black Eyes manage to create gripping music in spite of a conspicuous flaw speaks volumes about their improvisatory elan and collective skill as musicians. And from a philosophical standpoint, it seems clear that they don't give a crap whether something in their sound is likely to grate as long as it satisfies the band's internal demands and conceptual ends. As a result, Cough is one of those records that demands discipline to absorb, but will eventually reward those who stick around.

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