Is The Great Dystopian Songbook III: Songs for the Homeland the conclusion of a trilogy, or the third in an ongoing series? The answer may lie in how quickly society marches to dystopia. When the project began in early COVID, the seeds had already been sown; over the past four years, they have sprouted and produced an abundance of rotten fruit. One need not possess heightened intuition to make an educated guess on the subject of “A Great New Tyrant’s Game,” or to glean a political angle in “To the Partisan, Now and Forever.” There is almost too much to comment on, and as Golden Hymns Sing ‘Hurrah’ speaks without words, walls of sound must suffice; and they do.
The band’s playing has always seemed loose and uninhibited, and it continues to seem so here, albeit with more focus, a maturing development. The large, plodding drums and chords in the opener suggest measured reflection: What have we been through? How did we survive? Are we still intact? The answer to the last question is no, borne on sorrowful, extended notes that lay the groundwork for later drones. This is music struggling for answers that may not be forthcoming, patient until no response comes, railing against the silence. The first blast of energy arrives in the seventh minute, conveying the confidence that comes with knowing one has the right to ask such questions, and more. The track ends with a beating of drums, suggesting strident, uncompromising opinions. Dystopia is nigh.
The core four have a wealth of instruments at their disposal, most surprisingly the accordion and mountain dulcimer. Three additional musicians contribute this time around, expanding the roster for a third time. (The first album included three band members and two guests, one of whom was promoted; the second included four band members and one guest; and some of the band members have picked up additional instruments as well). The 17-minute “A Great Tyrant’s Game” is easily the album highlight, due to its use of dynamic contrast, rising from glockenspiel and guitar reverb to behemoth volume. One thinks of the prophets forecasting doom if we did not change our ways, warnings falling on our deaf ears, until the prophecies came true and we were no longer deaf, but deafened. One also thinks of the loss of political discourse, the loudest voice getting the largest audience, which is of course the realm of tyrants. When Golden Hymns Sing ‘Hurrah’ hits the red levels, the effect is cathartic, a whisper to a scream.
Can this level be sustained? Of course not; one cannot live indefinitely at top volume, although the impression may be sustained by media. Knowing that respite is needed, the band eases back the volume for a bit, allowing its audience to gather its breath, a kindness not shown by others. The greatest impact is often made by the softest words. After such cacophony, there’s relief found in the glockenspiel’s return. The soothing “Peace Through Concrete Cracks / Midnight At East New York Station” extends the effect with crickets and languid guitar. In this sonic oasis, the sirens are heard only in the distance.
“Tape Reel Burnout,” one of the early singles, is the most straightforward rocker, albeit distorted, providing a glimpse of unbridled joy in the participants. The eleven-minute “Swept Away the Hills” makes great use of orchestral elements, which manage to survive even the multiple explosions of guitars and drums. The album’s conclusion is open-ended. On the one hand, chimes and dulcimer offer the impression of calm; on the other, the title is “The Day After We Said Enough (Close Tired Eyes)’, which implies the aftermath of a large battle within a larger war, wondering if the next day will bring the strength to start anew. Given what has preceded, the gentleness arrives like grace. Maybe we will sleep, and dream. Maybe we will awaken, and see the sun. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 