On their aptly-titled third album, a long three and a half years since 2003’s Deja Entendu, Brand New sound like the collision of good and evil, somehow married in a single sound, all the while warring within themselves. The opening “Sowing Season” shows the band doing what they do best, jumping between the disarmingly half-whispered, half-whimpered hush of the verses, and the anguished screams of the explosive chorus. Both sides sound crippled by the same pain, but one is hopelessly defeated and the other enraged, finding purpose where the other finds despair. It is the commitment to this balance, as well as the wise decision to avoid any middle ground between the two extremes, that makes it such a strong opener.
It is when they stray into more neutral territory that the emotional impact wanes and the band begins to falter. The British new wave influence in “Not The Sun” and “The Archers’ Bows Have Broken” feels a little forced, and the REM-tinged “Millstone” begins to sound like filler when sandwiched between two far more powerful songs. Likewise, the two instrumental interludes are somewhat flat and unmemorable. Still, it’s hard to detract from the album as a whole, as these tracks are easily forgotten when eclipsed by the intense scream-along sections of stronger songs like “You Won‘t Know“ and “Degausser.” As noted in the liner notes, the album is a collection of various recordings from March 2005 to April 2006, so the occasional meandering is inevitable.
Conversely, as can be expected with an album full of such spectacular highs and tortured lows, the best songs generate a profoundly cathartic experience. In the spellbinding “Luca,” lead singer Jesse Lacey’s uneasy croon spends the first half of the song developing a twitchy suspense over a bed of slow-growing guitar noise. But before the band is willing to deliver the pay-off, the gradual build drops out to focus all attention on that familiar unsettling whisper. Lacey conjures haunting imagery with lyrics like, “unless you have friends among fish, there’ll still be no air to breathe / you could drink up the entire ocean, we‘ll still find someone to be everything we know that you‘ll never be.” When the band finally kicks in at the tail end of the third chorus, the release is breathtaking.
When Brand New released the ground-breaking Deja Entendu in 2003, they proved that they could meticulously craft accessible pop songs with the same rigid structure of their peers, without sacrificing depth or conviction. Longtime fans will be glad to find that much of what made it such a successful album is present here. The main difference is that while Deja Entendu sometimes felt like a collection of scientifically-constructed compositions, The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me gives the distinct impression of a spontaneous conception, its songs all stemming from single moments of inspiration. The result is a more stripped-down sound that will probably alienate a portion of their fan base, while providing those in search of actual substance, even more to sink their teeth into.
The emphasis here is less on catchy choruses and more on adventurous arrangements, and the gamble pays off for the most part. On first listen, it might seem a daunting task to find a memorable hook in this collection of bleak and tortured songs, most of them stretching beyond the length of a typical single. But while it’s true that the dynamics are wider and the structures are more sprawling, there is something immediately accessible about such undeniably honest and earnest music. At the disc’s halfway point, when the angst-ridden blare of “You Won’t Know” finally gives way to two quivering voices, repeating the song’s title over and over to its hypnotic end, it’s clear that Brand New have created something special. Here’s hoping we don‘t have to wait three and a half years for the next one.
