Parquet Courts
Monastic Living (Rough Trade)
After 2014’s Content Nausea, it was clear Parquet Courts (or Parkay Quarts, if you will) had set a decidedly different path for themselves. Leaving behind the indie post-punk the band became known for on Light Up Gold and Sunbathing Animal, the band got weird in the best way possible. With it’s free jazz, lo-fi jangles, and compelling spoken word diatribes railing against the anxiety and alienation of modern technology, Content Nausea served as an artistic turning point for the band.
In so doing, it posed the inevitable question, what would Parquet Courts do next? Where would this path take them?
The answer, it seems, is nowhere worth going.
On their latest album, Monastic Living, Parquet Courts have inexplicably decided to give a big middle finger to their fans and anyone foolish enough to pay for this record.
The album consists of roughly 30 minutes of repetitive, sloppy instrumental noodling. There is no song structure, only obnoxious, poorly constructed, self-indulgent noise-scapes, interspersed with directionless distortion and other nonsense.
The album’s high point (and I use the term lightly) is the opener “No, no, no”, the only “song” on the album with any vocals. It serves as an introduction to the album, with lead singer Andrew Savage yelping, “I don’t want to be a poet / I don’t want to be shared with your friends,” after which he promptly takes a vow of silence for the next 30 minutes. If only the rest of the band had done the same.
Despite what the liner notes might suggest, this album does not represent some sort of high-minded artistic statement. This isn’t experimentation: this is a half an hour of drunken jam space masturbation that should have never seen the light of day.
This album is irredeemable, unlistenable bullshit. You’ve been warned.
Rating out of 5: 1/2
