Experimental, perhaps to its own detriment.
III, the latest release from Silver Liz, sounds like it was created to be polarizing. There’s plenty to admire, but little that truly impresses. It’s experimental, fun and undeniably strange, yet its strangeness rarely coalesces into something memorable. The result is a project that feels perpetually confused. It’s interesting in concept, frustrating in execution and ultimately hit or miss.
The album says hello with “Intro,” initially an abrasive and seemingly incomprehensible collision of sounds. As it tames itself, it establishes the record’s commitment to experimentation. Yet, it also hints at its central problem: an overreliance on atmosphere without the substance to support it. The sonic ideas are there, but lyrically it has nothing to say. Ironically, painfully, the song repeats itself over and over with the words, “they don’t want to hear from me,” serving as an accidental omission of guilt.
“Trixie’s Crying” features punchy production that shifts between techno and laid-back indie textures. At moments, the lead singer’s voice shines, breaking free with brief but nonetheless engaging riffs. More often, however, it settles into an otherwise bland falsetto that drains the song of momentum. The lyrics could use more gumption as well, sounding like an attempt at storytelling from a narrator who has already lost interest.
“Dream More Vivid” is one of the album’s stronger efforts. It opens with nearly a minute of experimental techno before introducing the same subdued vocals, but this time supported by more compelling lyrics. Vocal distortion appears throughout, making the singer sound as though she is submerged underwater, adding texture and sustaining interest. Ironically, the production, no matter how exciting or new it may be, also shows that the singer’s delivery is at its best when it’s obscured.
“Through The Trees” continues the trend of eccentricity and has several engaging passages, but not enough to warrant its nearly 4 minute runtime. While it may be a characteristically average length song, it only has ten lines of lyrics. Lyrics aren’t a necessity when crafting a good song, but even the song itself knows that’s not the case here. The track tapers off awkwardly with a minute left in it, creating tension that feels unintentional in its drawn out outro. “Through The Trees,” a song detailing the two collaborator’s own relationship, missed out on much of its own impactfulness and beauty because it wanted to be more than it was destined to be.
“Ten Years” gives vocalist Matt Wagner a time to really shine. Wagner’s voice is noticeably stronger and more commanding than his wife Carrie’s, even as it is filtered through heavy distortion to match the album’s dense instrumentation. His presence is a welcome change and another notch in the album’s experimental belt.
In the end, III is an album full of ideas that just barely falls short in execution. Its ambition is admirable, its innovation intriguing, but its lack of substance prevents it from becoming anything more than a bumpy ride.
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