With
the first glass beach album
(2019), intrepid L.A. indie rockers
glass beach
funneled the sounds of emo, jazz, musical theater, chiptunes, prog rock, synthy pop, post-punk, and even more into a highly digestible set that leaned into woe-be-gone emo while remaining -- as indicated by its title -- at least a little bit cheeky. With their more ambitious follow-up,
plastic death
,
tone down (but don't by any means leave behind) the emo threads and add flashes of hardcore, metal, and more while taking lyrical inspiration from sources like the surrealist novel Finnegans Wake, the slogans of
Jenny Holzer
's Truisms, and Dadaist
Tristan Tzara
's practice of pulling random words from a hat. Against all odds, the results are more cohesive, more solemn, and despite the album's mercurial sensibility, it again goes down remarkably easy. It's the type of music that will draw fans to shows and get both rock club floors and phone flashlights swaying. Leading the way is singer and multi-instrumentalist
J McClendon
, who holds interest through the 63-minute epic like an actor. If there's a gripe to be had here, it's that those unconventional lyrics are sometimes indecipherable, but suffice it to say that the vibes cut through loud and clear. The episodic, six-and-a-half-minute "coelacanth" starts things off like theater exposition, guiding listeners through studio chatter, quirky computer-game noise and ghostly effects, arpeggiated piano, and the yearning, melancholic first lines "The ghost rots away/In the embrace/Of its own gaze." The song goes on to take up yearning emo power balladry, then noodly, cymbal-crashing rock. Meanwhile, lyrics refer to subjects like chemical war and a "dissonant fanfare" in between repeatedly asking, "How long have I loved you?" The driving, more structured synth rock of "motions" is next, and we're strapped in and on board for the ride. Later, "rare animal" incorporates both bird recordings and power drumming, the grooving "puppy" tunefully investigates an inequitable relationship, and the paranoid "the CIA" (another relationship song) crunches and glistens its way into a dramatic metal finale. While it's hard to say what
is "about," beyond the implied existential self-destruction, its emotional roller coaster, confusion, and persistent longing are affecting. The penultimate track, "commatose," for instance, is a nearly ten-minute trek through jazzy, orchestral prog; moody, driving indie rock; tight screamo; and glitchy post-rock without ever lingering on any one of those long enough to define the song as anything but a lament. While
often let the music do the talking, that's never more profound than on resigned closing entry "abyss angel," which confesses, "It's not easy to me¿I am a human body" before ending on a hollow electronic tone. ~ Marcy Donelson