Lip Critic - Theft World

Partisan

New York's Lip Critic return with album number two(three?) Theft World. Theft World is quite the chaotic experience, but nevertheless an enjoyable one. It's chaos you can thrive in. 

Post-Punk meets wobbly electronics - Post-Gunk. The album opens on fat-dripping techno beams. "Two Lucks" nicely lays out how Theft World is going to go: you, the listener, the experiencer, will lie on your back as you're dragged feet first through crazy canvases pulled together from all sorts of scenes, sights and sounds. It's a reflection of the eyebrow-raising artwork: worlds collide and clash; hyper-realities. What. Is. Going. On. 

'you 

are the Hell

that I made

for myself'

Mad sample-bits and metallic, chirp-like croaks embellish "Jackpot" throughout. A serene wash comes over towards tracks end - like the addiction has won and the fight has come to an end. They're the first signs of duality on the project. A coming to terms of sorts sound-wise. Resting, although there's still a lot to figure out; a lot to live through. 

'It's those feelings

you swallow

down'

Jungle rhymes & rhythms. Incessant bass-drums on "Debt Forest" provide a primal experience. Huge heartbeats. You can cut me loose, but you'll never bring me down. It feels like the natural progression and industrialisation of the worlds of Pop-Punk. The pushback bouts of Mom-n'-Dad-day-to-dayness have turned existentially Universal. 

Theft World goes from gorgeously lush to insanely industrial as if the barrier was never there. There is indeed a bridge between beauty and beast; and it's far smaller than you think; as if each exists within each. The pent up weight comes out in demonic outbursts. Asked for a reason? Give them NINE. 

Snotty sounding frontman Brett Kaser is like David Byrne if he was raised on a healthy - or unhealthy - diet of JPEGMAFIA. His vocal delivery is of an upper-echeloned air - and looking down on you. The super-duper-Americanisation of his pronunciation makes it super-duper-confident sounding - but, as there always is, there's a catch. The bravado meets the unforgiving brawn of nature at every turn. 

It's well-controlled chaos - sensorially engaging. Lip Critic firmly sit in the nightmare blunt rotation seat. Theft World is addictingly different, without losing itself in experimental fluff. 

'YOOOOWWW. Wake 'em up'

The final of three singles released in the albums run-up was "Talon". Life at arms length. Keep it clear that I'm not a part of it. Relatives, once removed. Hoping no one finds the trail, because they all lead right back to you. The chickens do indeed come home to roost. 

'World splitter

love giver

there's no fee plus a thousand to feel that.'

You couldn't get this if you sold your soul for it. It's a knot which appears only in those worthy. 'A Sun burst in my palm'. Unattainable. Irretrievable. Unbelievable. 

'I would almost die to be near you

die to be seen

die to be loved

I can't explain the need'

Smoke is spreading all over town. All over my mind. Brain fog on an infinite level.

Taking my life back into my fucking hands. Who do I leave behind? Steps need to be taken. Weight needs to be shed. Stuck in this grocery store for a Century. The conveyor of time trapped antics. Dilated clocks. Snowcrashed CCTV. 

'And the world lives on, in spite of you'

You're a speck on an infinite scale. A piece, and the whole portion, and also neither. The stage is set; the story is told; the curtain is closed. 

'And after all, I lost myself' 

In this carnival, you're the ride.