Gus Wright

from Baths' new EP, Ocean Death (May 6, 2014). --- If you heard Obsidian last year, you already understand. On his sophomore album as Baths, Will Wiesenfeld fully shed of his sonic influences with a staggering work of graveyard beauty. Contrasts to the other artists became null. Giving it a 8.6 “Best New Music,” Pitchfork hailed it as a “subversive work that gets uncomfortably close to pop, confronting closed minds with what they don’t want to believe.” Always a gifted musician, Baths became a fully conceived artist: a songwriter of uncommon sensitivity, a whimsical and romantic spirit, and a lay-me-gently-down falsetto. Think of his Anticon EP, Ocean Death, as a companion piece—the Dia De Los Muertos to Obsidian’s Halloween. It’s title and the eponymous opening track existed before a single note of 2010’s Cerulean had been recorded. Darker in tone, they were always targeted for a sophomore album, but wound up a different cut of gem. Ocean Death is the exquisite setting. Just five songs and a shade over 20 minutes, the idea was to avoid over-thinking. Songs were perfected not embellished. The subject matter remains dark-tinted pop. “Ocean Death” reclines in the aquatic seabed. The lyrics are simple and bleak, but the effect is celestial. The 3 a.m. introspection and heart beat pulse are almost reminiscent of Four Tet or Pantha Du Prince. The pulse is almost minimal techno, but it’s suffused with maximalist emotion. A small part of Ocean Death was recorded in a hotel room in Spain, but it was mostly done at a friend’s home in LA, the same place where Obsidian was completed. Both records traverse similar terrain: morbid lyricism, direct vocal melodies, a felicity in subsuming electronic experiments into pop songs. It’s about death, apathy, and loneliness. It sounds like a final love letter to a chapter of life that has already ended—and maybe it has. Songs are currently being theorized for a third full-length, and the direction is vastly different. It’s not normally in Baths’ nature to rehash old ideas. In a sense, Ocean Death was an experiment to animate these beautiful but discarded fragments. We’re lucky they survived. Baths has a rare gift for cloaking melancholy with gorgeous arrangements. The emotions are raw, but the musicianship is refined. Guitars are scraped and processed. Vocals are clipped and layered, drowned and resurrected. But what lingers are the songs themselves; ideas fully formed and immortalized, built to haunt forever. --- North American Tour Dates w/ Young Fathers & P. Morris: 04/24/2014 The Space - Hamden, CT 04/25/2014 The Bowery Ballroom - New York, NY 04/27/2014 Port City Music Hall - Portland, ME 04/30/2014 Bones Gate Fraternity - Hanover, NH 05/01/2014 S.A.T - Montreal, CA 05/02/2014 Ritual - Ottawa, CA 05/03/2014 Horseshoe Tavern - Toronto, CA 05/04/2014 Magic Stick - Detroit, MI 05/05/2014 Pyramid Scheme - Grand Rapids, MI 05/08/2014 The Vogue - Indianapolis, IN 05/09/2014 Concord Music Hall - Chicago, IL 05/10/2014 Triple Rock Social Club - Minneapolis, MN 05/11/2014 The Aquarium - Fargo, ND 05/13/2014 The Starlite - Edmonton, CA 05/14/2014 Commonwealth Bar & Stage - Calgary, CA 05/15/2014 Fortune Sound Club - Vancouver, CA 05/16/2014 Neumo's Crystal Ball - Seattle, WA 05/17/2014 Rotture - Portland, OR 05/18/2014 WOW Hall - Eugene, OR 05/21/2014 The Independent - San Francisco, CA 05/22/2014 Cellar Door - Visalia, CA 05/23/2014 Constellation Room - Santa Ana, CA 05/24/2014 Casbah - San Diego, CA

Lifting weights in an American prison means joining a culture unlike any seen in a free-world gym, full of crudely welded pig iron and rust. Men forsake masturbation to improve their bench-press stats and consume cans of Jack Mack, the cheapest tinned fish in the world, along with the filthy broth it's packed in for every one of the 72.5 grams of protein promised on the label. It's a manly, aggressive universe with rules and customs of its own. I lived it for 10 years.