Balaclavas— Roman Holiday LP

Catalog No.

KNIFE015

Released

February 14, 2010

Edition

550 copies

Tracklist

1. Roman Holiday
2. True Believers
3. Vuitton
4. Up The Newel
5. Night Worship
6. Nine Livers
7. Runes

Reviews

• "More than two years have passed since Balaclavas debuted with a pair of striking EPs that showed its gothic post-punk was already on its way to full maturity. Judging from Roman Holiday, the band has used the intervening time wisely. This dark, lusty record boasts bold songwriting growth, infectious and dramatic performances, and deliriously menacing arrangements, while remaining completely of a piece with their earlier work stylistically. Balaclavas was a good band already, but this short LP makes its earlier work sound downright obsolete. One standout example is "Vuitton," on which drummer Charlie Patranella pays tribute to Joy Division's Stephen Morris with a linear sixteenth-note groove on toms and hi-hat under guitarist Tyler Morris's piercing rhythmic jabs and arpeggios. The band has used these tricks before, but never to such chilling effect. Supported by this viciously churning music, Morris's sneering taunt "we stand in opposition to the system. . . I'd rather be a victim" is positively dystopian. Meanwhile, on the record's B-side, the watery back-and forth groove of "Night Worship," the frank brutality of "Nine Livers," and the bass-driven electronic instrumental "Runes" form a diverse cluster of dark rock worthy of Bauhaus. By releasing artists like the Wiggins, Future Blondes, and Rusted Shut, the young local label Dull Knife is becoming known for confrontational music, and Roman Holiday is as alienated and morbid, as positively vicious, as any of it. At the same time, the booming, sinuous interplay between Patranella and bassist Brian Harrison make it one of most musical and best-sounding records to come out of local studio Dead City Sound. In a city as versed in rough and raw indie rock as Houston, Roman Holiday fits in well. But even as it does, its sophistication and sheer power make it the equivalent of, as Morris puts it in "Nine Livers," "bringing a gun to a knife fight." - Daniel Mee

  —29-95

• "Cast adrift, bobbing, gently atop thick black waves. Discordant guitars drifting in from some No Wave fight between their angular selves and James Chance’s rejected saxophone – still smarting and throwing her weight around. Stars fill the loft’s decaying rafters. The building creeks with the mass of the black waves; crashing apologetically into its crumbling interior walls. The halls echo with the far off call of a high-priest, caught out by time and stuck at right angles to this world. His insightful sermons trapped in the space between doorways. Dull Knife, the label behind the wonderful Indian Jewelry / Future Blondes split 12″ from last year, are delighting once more with the dub-infused gem that is the Roman Holiday album by Balaclavas. Full of the sort of urgent rhythm section that haunts Liquid Liquids dreams and sax solos straight from the Ze Records book of just-the-right-time-to-be-deployed plays."

  —20jazzfunkgreats

• "Interest turned into raves, and now raves turn into worship. I’d like to consider Balaclavas the premium dark/Gothic/post-punk band of the Americas circa 2010, and hopefully for a lot longer. This short debut album keeps the mood of their first EP, maintains the sinister consistency of its follow-up Inferno, and hones everything to a point that could draw blood. Staying together for a couple of years has ratcheted up their game, which now consists of some guitar shardery that totally nails the less-is-more approach, a renewed interest in rhythm (drummer Chaz Patranella works over the polyrhythms, saving the electronic drum pads for last in quite the tasteful display), and a stone well of bass and reverb to fill out the ends. Most bands these days find that they need more bodies on stage; Balaclavas keep it tied down to a trio, with occasional sax moves by Culturcide’s Ralf Armin, and they really work for it, delivering a massive record that warrants play after play. The opening title track rips into a four-note melody, massive dub-style poptones, and a menace that draws a thick line between them and most bands dicking around with candlelit moods and ominous posturing. It sounds like it’d work in Buffalo Bill’s dungeon, so don’t be too shocked after it ends, and you’re standing in front of a mirror, feather boa and kohl in the right places, your dick tucked firmly between your thighs. Space is at a premium, even in these times, but Balaclavas have figured out how to make a lot of it but still maintain a strong economy of songwriting and downright mean chops. There’s more borrowing going on here than in previous efforts – “Up the Newel” explores a bit of a Nine Inch Nails fetish, while “Runes” melds the sort of glam-mournful guitar the Cure went to town on with “Fascination Street” – but what they do with the bits and pieces cribbed from familiar brooders is what counts, and these seven tracks do an admirable job of just hanging there, making you remember every little detail, nothing wasted throughout. Guitarist Tyler Morris steps back from the frontman role ever so slightly, the band working as more of a team at this stage, but his vocals are as memorable as on previous efforts. Look, so very few bands have actually made a dent in the canon that when one comes along that does, you gotta let people know. I don’t feel embarrassed about this band at all, and I couldn’t say the same for the bulk of the substance-lacking “let’s discover synths and tight pants” turn this music took cultivated in the late ‘90s, nor the hyper-organized, brainless mush of anyone claiming legit Goth/industrial status from then on out. Repeated spins have brought out the nuances of this record, revealing a band whose moral compass got tacked onto one of those 12 volt battery magnets and now spins wildly out of control. There’s danger here, and if I have to tie to you a chair with a system of elaborate trusses and a ball gag in order for you to understand it, then that’s how it’s gonna be. You may even find that you like it as much as the music itself. Nice lo-res cover art, depicting a gory shot from “Caligula” on the front, and a guy buried up to his neck on the back, surrounded by the remnants of a good trash pelting. Another sure shot from Dull Knife, quickly becoming the most important American independent label of its scale. May this band get intensely popular, shock a lot of people, and become cult icons. I’m excited. 550 copies w/ download card – hurry the fuck up." - Doug Mosurock

  —Still Single

• "Balaclavas follow two notable EPs with the release of their debut album Roman Holiday on Dull Knife. The band pick up an echo of the darkwave trend that seems to be flowing in spurts of late but dive further into the rhythmic dub holes left in the atmosphere by the likes of Public Image Ltd and Can. The album's smeared with concrete and a permanent overcast just waiting for the downpour; sulking through the streets in fervent desperation for connection. There's a certain element of dance swarming underneath many of Balaclavas' songs but it's by no means an exuberant expression of joy, rather an unconscious expulsion of physical lashing out that echoes the tightly restrained fury and grit-toothed anxiety of the surrounding melodies. A decidedly darker side of the Texas underground."

  —Raven Sings The Blues

• "Seems like Dull Knife is interested in cultivating an artist roster to grow with the imprint rather than a series of one-offs, more of a long-term approach to running a small label, which is a cool and rare thing these days. There may not be any specific aesthetic that runs through every Dull Knife artist, but Balaclavas are as appropriate of a flagship band as any - they’ve got their own cool sound and have improved exponentially with their debut full-length, Roman Holiday. The first two 12″s came nicely wrapped in black mesh and lace, but this album finds Balaclavas stepping out from goth’s velvet drapes and sounding more like a taut, fiery post-punk band than a pre-sorted genre act. The biggest improvement I’ve noticed is a thick and heavy bass groove that is constantly present, almost qualifying Roman Holiday for its own “Metal Box” edition, if you catch my drift. The singer still wields his voice with conviction and grace, with effects that brighten and tweak his words, rather than shroud. The seven songs here use this new-found heaviness to support Birthday Party-esque romps and modern industrial grooves that could place as easily on the Nurse With Wound list as within GSL’s discography. All of this makes for a fantastic debut album that is weirdly unique highly listenable, easily exceeding whatever expectations I had. Download comes with a dance remix too, if your weekly DJ night demands it."

  —Yellow Green Red