When is it not on our lips? The unspeakable, existential threat looming behind the triumphalism of recent years. Berlin-based songwriter Von Liz, the moniker of Tipperary-hailing Barry Lanigan, releases his debut album at a moment in time when our assuredness in human prosperity has never seemed more wishful.
Yet for all the dystopian imagery implied by an album named #ourextinction, this is a driving set of songs filled with humor and wry social observation as much as despondency; an effortless blend of indie rock, folk, psychedelica and electronica to get us dancing rather than moping along to the hashtagged apocalypse.
Opener Pointed Bullet sets out Von Liz’s stall from the off – an ominous organ drone heralds Lanigan’s rich, orotund voice, with cryptic ruminations on blowing leaves, American dreams and blunt bullet points . The implied ephemerality of our age is captured by unhurried guitar chords, a languid drum beat and a trumpet line that recalls Groove Armada at their most wistful.
An effortless blend of indie rock, folk, psychedelica and electronica to get us dancing rather than moping along to the hashtagged apocalypse.
Second song Officially Bored diverges from any sense of despair – an infectious, one-chord groove over which Von Liz winkingly sings ‘I’m officially bored of the fucking guitar.’ Perhaps Officially Bored is an admission of the guitar’s gradual dethroning in pop music. And as much as Lanigan’s tasteful guitar playing is a key component of the album, #ourextinction’s engaging sound hinges on its varied instrumental palette, and the club-ready sonic sheen provided by engineer and producer John McAndrew. Nowhere is this evidenced better than last year’s single I Just Don’t Like The Cunt – an amusing reflection on the occasional instinctive hatred we feel for our fellow human beings which pairs Von Liz‘s ebullient vocals and guitars with a pumping bass dance bass line and a drunken swirl of Hammond organs.
Title track Our Extinction pares things back to shows Lanigan‘s songwriting talent with a melody that sears itself effortlessly into memory. A haunting song that sounds like something Noel Gallagher might have considered for What‘s The Story Morning Glory, Von Liz ruminates about bombs in the Middle East and university rapes as he notes that ‘outside your window it’s all okay’, a reflection of the fact that the hedonistic abandon privileged to most of us can only put the horrors of humanity at arms length.
But contrary to what the album title suggests, it might not yet be all over for our race. After lurching into a heavier industrial sound of darkening synths and heavier beats in the second half of the album, Von Liz’s resounding voice continues to guide us and keep us afloat amidst the growing darkness, the jaunty Misinformation giving way to the crepuscular trip-hop of Beyond, which leads to the dystopian, arrestingly-titled Rape Alarms Don‘t Work In Court, where Von Liz‘s voice is perched stridently over a skittering bed of drums, menacing synths and percussive flute stabs.
By the time we reach gorgeous closer Stagnant Adder, which fuses an undulating acoustic guitar line with skeletal beats, conjuring imagery of a parched snake meandering through the cold streets of Friedrichshain, #ourextinction reveals itself to be a perfect album for our time and place. Von Liz brings musicianship and a lyricism from Tipperary which he melds naturally with the pulse of Berlin’s club scene, finished with a nostalgic coating of trip hop, shoegaze and Brit Pop. In Berlin, a city which has refused to stand still after each seismic historical shift, Von Liz’s stentorian voice is a robust narrator to navigate us through the next chapter of our existence.
Tom Miodrag 