A Long Way from “Summer”
Mogwai have been post-rocking for twenty years, and in those twenty years, the foggy definition of “post-rock” hasn’t really cleared up at all. Perhaps that’s one reason why the band doesn’t really care for the term. Ironically, though, Mogwai’s constantly mutating sound has remained elusive enough to justify the continuous use of such a nebulous label. They began moving away from their trademark sound almost as soon as it was established, and even though the process of doing so has been an uphill battle critically, they’ve continued to experiment, reconfigure and progress with confidence. Their most recent efforts sound like the work of a group of musicians who, while comfortable reflecting on their past accomplishments from a safe distance, would rather burn into obscurity than rehash their first few records ad infinitum.
Spanning six LPs, Central Belters is one hell of an anthology, and a testament to Mogwai’s aversion to stagnation. Chock full of a little bit of everything – a few cuts from every album, A sides, B sides, some soundtrack work – it does double duty as a great entry point for the uninitiated and a worthwhile addition to any longtime fan’s collection. Never mind that its release came just weeks before the quiet departure of founding member John Cummings; this collection is a celebration of a band who, twenty years in, is still capable of, and dedicated to, making music worth celebrating.
While semi-linear in nature, the track list seems more sensitive to tone than time. Beginning with the early single “Summer,” the first four sides capture Mogwai at their most beloved: predominantly instrumental, highly dynamic, cymbals crashing, guitars alternately clean and sparkling or saturated in fuzz, the odd bit of glockenspiel, piano or synth to complete the arrangement. Jumping back and forth between some of the band’s earliest recorded output and 2003’s Happy Music for Happy People before landing on “Mogwai Fear Satan,” the Can-inspired finale of their debut album, the first third of Central Belters is a complete thought in itself.
But not to fear: this does not make the next four sides feel the least bit superfluous or exhausting. The second third of Central Belters tells another satisfying story: that of latter-day Mogwai, an electronics-heavy version its former self which, informed by krautrock (“The Sun Smells Too Loud”), sludge metal (“Batcat”) and maybe even Tangerine Dream (“Remurdered”), sounds more evolved than bionic. Opening with the delightfully slow build of “Auto Rock” (also the opener for 2006’s Mr. Beast), this portion of Central Belters doesn’t meander whatsoever, taking a thoroughly enjoyable express trip to 2014. “Teenage Exorcists,” an uncharacteristically brief and explosive track from the post-Rave Tapes EP Music Industry 3. Fitness Industry 1., closes out side H perfectly. It’s beautiful, it’s succinct, it has a surprising amount of pop potential and if it’s any indication of what’s to come, Mogwai’s best work may still be ahead of them.
The final four sides consist entirely of non-album tracks, thus coming off as more of a collage than the rest of the collection. But thanks to the high quality and trajectory of the track list (beginning with the pensive Come On Die Young outtake “Hugh Dallas” and closing the way many Mogwai shows do, with the raucous, sprawling 2001 single “My Father My King”), this closing third still stands on its own as a valuable listening experience. Its centerpiece – perhaps the entire collection’s centerpiece, for that matter – is definitely the 2008 Roky Erikson collaboration “Devil Rides.” Erikson’s voice has aged beautifully, and his defiant, heartbreaking delivery of lines like, “Did you miss me? I seemed so sure / The days seem longer, now you’re gone” pair so well with Mogwai’s solemn, stripped-down performance that it’s easy to resent them for not doing an entire record together.
Over the last two decades, Mogwai have proven themselves to be far more than the Central Belt’s answer to Slint or Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and this reflective, carefully assembled collection of songs serves as proof. What’s more, anyone with three and a half hours to kill will be pleased with this mammoth anthology’s lack of bloat. Each distinct section of Central Belters stands on its own sturdy legs, but as a whole, the collection sheds light on every corner of an essentially unclassifiable band’s output without feeling the least bit aimless or disjointed. Here’s hoping that the next Mogwai retrospective is even half as satisfying.
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