Hold on a cotton picking moment. Purposeful musical invention of an esoteric nature? From a Glasgow band? Indeed it is and Muscles of Joy’s self-titled album is going to be a tough one to explain to your friends.
Song writing strays from the conventional with nothing as simplistic as a hook or a chorus to grab the attention of the uninitiated. Instead, there is the sound of an organic machine – it seemed an appropriate description – that is spewing out chaos that a group of well intentioned souls have reassembled into the image of a tuneful jigsaw puzzle that they have never actually heard. “Coins Across His Hips” has the mark of conventionality for most of its running time with its emulation of the underground New York sound reeking of authenticity. That, however, is something of a feint as “Swan Shape” right turns into sonic anarchism street with only a persistent plaintive female vocal suggesting a sense of direction. “Interchangeable Letterset” is the song, however, that defines the Muscles of Joy sound building, as it does, from fragmented vocal and instrumental patterns into the brick house that Laurie Anderson designed.
Whist this album doesn’t always hit the mark, it does nonetheless manage to entertain and confuse in equal measures. I’ve no idea why anybody would make an album like this – at least in terms of commercial viability – but I am glad that they did and, should you decide to indulge yourself, and then be patient as it will undoubtedly take time for this particular brand of avant-garde disorder to mature inside your head.
Packaged in a die cut sleeve with a printed inner card sleeve that contains the actual vinyl in its own inner sleeve, this LP looks the part being almost as perplexing as the music itself. There is also a CD so you can do the super audio geek A-B comparisons.