“HORSE The Band has grown up.” This has been the choice summation for each of this band’s string of releases since 2005. The marketing engine that would impart kudos of maturity on each successive album must be expecting a geriatric quality in Desperate Living. If HORSE have grown up, and grown up again over the past four years, surely their uber maturity would now trade breakdowns for ragtime and synths for big band piano (although to be fair, there is cadenza featured that is a century old). The onus on this band to abandon jocularity in order to ‘progress’ goes beyond unfair; unfortunately, there is the minefield of kitsch that comes with their formula. A punchy hardcore aesthetic with Commodore 64 toned keys have done little to allow their critical image to emerge from under Magic The Gathering decks and Captain Planet cassettes… And yet this sentiment is only the thin skin that holds a vast canon of worlds, characters, and imaginations. Each earnest and demented concept has no caustic undertone, where Cutman is truly loathed and bears are revered with complete sincerity. Personas such as Lord Gold, The Purple Majesty, and Super Sapphire (is it GENERAL BARON now?) all contribute to an evolving dimension that is enhanced across their entire discography. Praise be to The Lady Of The Mechanical Light. For Lif.

Relatively soon after dropping the hydrogen bomb of surprises that was A Natural Death, HORSE saw the departure of drummer Chris Prophet and bassist Dash Arkenstone. Both were central to A Natural Death‘s clinic calibre musicianship; surgical kick drum triplets and free jazz bass solos leant a scarily advanced technical repertoire to a band known for Mega Man breakdowns – a feat many metal braggarts would nervously deny with upturned noses towards the mosh happy classics “Birdo” and “Handsome Shoved His Gloves”. As such, fear crept around the dark edges of a HORSE fan’s mind when Arkenstone and Prophet dropped off the roster; the masterminds that delivered the furious ending of “The Red Tornado” and evocative “Rotting Horse” were no more. This spat down a well of insecurity that would long for virtuosic bass lines and godly drum fills absent on every forthcoming album since A Natural Death. What of Erik Engstrom‘s song defining keyboard leads, alternating between biting and fornicating with David Isen‘s raspy cyborg blues? What of Nathan Winneke, a front man with unparalleled charisma and a metronome for comedic timing? Was… Technicality of all fucking things the defining factor of a fantastic HORSE The Band album? If you were agonizing over the same questions, then I think we were both suffering from the same metaphysical crisis.

“One two three, ‘H’ the ‘B’…

One two three, ‘H’ the ‘B’…

One two three, ‘H’ the ‘B’”

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From a whisper to a full blow freight train of a breakdown that ritualistically chants “HORSE The Band“, this is a declaration for everyone who gets it – gets what the essence of this world is. There is music that opens up into a garage with friends on plastic lawn furniture, music that enters from one’s nose into their stomach and instigates the butterflies, and music that rips a dumb grin across your face; all three are to be found in these moments, because you get it, you fucking get it. As K-SLAX codas this legendary passage on “HORSE The Song”, “HORSE the motherfuckin’ band motherfucker”, I am there.

Desperate Living departs home with “Cloudwalker”, perfectly holding the terrifying prospect of touring 40 countries in under six months. The magnitude of this results in an exorcised giggle from Winneke, ushering in a melodic concept so lush with artistry and heartbreak. Of course, this is nothing new for the band; their abrasive furor has always been given focus by – let’s face it – sensitivity. These melodies are uncompromisingly beautiful, somewhat more challenging to acknowledge and embrace than 8 bit grind-outs. These are testaments to a band that lived in the abject squalor, shifting altitudes, and sewerless corners of Earth through most of 2008. I can only picture their van getting lost in the middle of New Zealand with nothing but downloaded videos of Xavier Renegade Angel to stave off despair, terror, and nausea. Desperate Living indeed. Earth Tour was the action that complemented their all-for-nothing approach to modern heavy music, and it has never been more effective than on Desperate Living. At times, the rapid circle pit hooks of A Natural Death again take the spotlight in “The Failure Of All Things”, or the The Mechanical Hand-esque guitar dance riffs in “Science Police”. Tracks such as “Shapeshift”, and “Golden Mummy, Golden Bird” throw some new curveballs like “Cloudwalker” opened with; energetic synth punk and metallic beatdowns subside for landscapes of keyboard washes, luscious e-string touches, surpassing even the best output from Explosions In The Sky. I typed it. Noah Shain has gone above and beyond in allowing this band to produce these textures with as much majesty and depth as any mix could deliver.  It is an absolute hypnotic electronic experience, only, heightened by distant tremolos.

If this album succeeds on a viscerally emotional level, then what urgency is there for technical bravado? To be sure, there is psychopathic Dillinger Escape Plan trigonometry in “Rape Escape”, and off time chords in “Between The Trees”, but it takes a harder listen to find the real complexities. The bass presence takes a noted step back… several in fact. Brian Grover phones in a bass performance here, but that is not entirely a fault. He supports the interplay between Engstrom’s and Isen’s various ideas with a solid if stoic low end melody. New skinsman Daniel Pouliet is a real find… Seemingly the perfect fit after putting time in HORSE’s sister act Bleeding Kansas. This band had success with finding agile speedsters when in a rut (such as prodigy Jon Karel), but never has there been such understated composure between the toms and graced cymbals. This brings every other member’s ambition to lif(e). His fills are modest, but focused, saturated, and genuinely creative.

These are the inevitable causes that heave this masterpiece out of the shadow of instrumental extravagance and let it become HORSE The Band’s finest album. Often there are chord progressions that have been recycled since the dawn of time, yet their delivery is collectively enhanced by and through the HORSE angle. By the time “Arrive” hits your speakers, the sheer celebration of it all easily does away with picking the nits that are little more than microscopic compared to its grandeur. Desperate Living chronicles the true maturity of this band, a group who have seen more of the living world than any human being likely to read this, and found they love what they fucking do. They love their stories, their made up names, and their kingdoms; I am still here, and not only do I feel like I remain in the loop, but I recognize it more than ever – I am here, I am home.

(9.2/10)