Curve - Come Clean
Curve has always been slightly askew of the rest of the field, creating a unique sonic envelope with their deep, layered sound. You can see their heritage and their origins from the shoegazers of the last decade; you get some understanding of how the torch singers of the cabarets in the '40s and '50s managed to ensnare their listeners. What Curve has always been is a musical force, a tsunami of instrumentation that drowns you even as you dash into the water towards the siren clarion that calls out to you. With Come Clean, Curve's first album in five years, the elements are all there -- a wonderful reconnection for those who have counted the DWC (Days Without Curve) -- yet there is a clear message that these last years have not been static ones for Toni Halliday and Dean Garcia. Curve is dead. Long live Curve.
That's not to say that the wall of guitar sound that permeates Cuckoo and Doppelganger can't be found on Come Clean. The opening lines of "Dog Bone" assuage you of that fear. But Curve has moved on, uncovering electronic elements that previously have been hidden in the layers of sound. "Coming Up Roses" begins with an echoing pattern, a hinted sample that more than reminds you of Meat Beat Manifesto. Toni's voice is coated with an electric sheen through the first verse as electronics bubble and rise around us. It doesn't seem like Curve until the winding serpent of a guitar guides us into the crashing sound of the chorus and the sound roars over us.
A friend mentioned -- after their recent performance at the Showbox -- that he still couldn't succinctly describe the experience, that he couldn't describe the sound which he had heard. I sympathize. Come Clean has been out for a couple of months now and I haven't been able to find the right way to describe Curve either. Flung throughout conversations and articles is the comparison of Garbage to Curve (Garbage being a more accessible, pop-oriented version of Curve) and that comparison has always struck me as anemic and simplistic. Shirley Manson (Garbage's singer) and Toni Halliday have one thing in common: the Voice. But while Shirley's throaty come-hither growl may steam up the windows a bit, Toni's voice will melt the glass. Coupled with her eye contact from the stage and I think every young man graced with that impact came away certain that that song had been just for him.
And the sound? Garbage and Curve are both masters of the layered sound, but Curve's specialty lies in the throbbing low end. Dean's bass work snakes and thrashes and bubbles around you in thick doubled time as you rise up with Toni's vocals intertwining with the guitar and other elements. "Dirty High" has Dean and Monti (their long-time drummer returned for the tour) syncopating out a thick beat under Toni's languid vocals and as the song unfolds up in a live setting, you can see the audience start to writhe. Some are tracing the rhythm of her vocals and the accompanying guitar. Others are shivering from the darker, thicker underbeat and, as the song builds-their last one before the obligatory break for the encore-these lines come together until the top meets the bottom and it all dissolves in a thick envelope that seems inpenetrable, yet you are still feeling all the rhythm and melody that has brought you to that point.
Live, they showcased the album well, covering nine of the thirteen cuts from the record. They kicked off their set at the Showbox with "On the Wheel" a track from the Blackerthreetracker single that can only be found domestically on the soundtrack to the Doom Generation. A shame, since it is such a landmark song (they opened with it on the Cuckoo tour as well) and so crisply alerts the audience as to where they are going. The other nostalgia tracks -- "Unreadable Communication," "Horror Head," "Turkey Crossing," "Ten Little Indians," and "Die Like a Dog" -- clearly felt as if from a different era. The band was, except for "Turkey Crossing," more comfortable with these tracks and the audience seemed to know them as well. Toni was visibly surprised at the first chorus of "Die Like a Dog" to hear the audience singing back to her.
Of the other tracks from the album, they translated well to a live setting, filling the room as Curve should really be played. "Beyond Reach" was the only track that was transformed for me. It's a great slower song from the album, one that has a good kicking rhythm driving through it, but live, it was something else. An echo was added to Toni's voice, much more than on the album track, and the guitar player took the sweeps he was given and stretched them-sonic putty-until it sounded almost like something living in his hands. I've heard everything that Curve has ever done. Heard it all many times, but I felt like this was something new. Just as I -- and the rest of us -- close in on them, they move away again. It really did sum up Curve. Come Clean has brought them closer to the mainstream, but even with a more accessible sound, they are still beyond reach. Nothing quite sounds like Curve. And nothing should.
Curve
Estupendo / Universal [1998]
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