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27, "Brittle Divinity"
27 is a small band. There are two numbers in the name and three people in the group. Brittle Divinity, their latest full length, is appropriately enough a small record. Their last outing, 2007's Holding on for Brighter Days was bigger and broader, more produced and more varied than what they are doing here. But I like this better.
Reproductive
The album's second song, "Sometime Somewhere Soon" is beautiful and wistful and it's composed of not much more than voices, bass, and some simple keys. "Love Letter" is similarly sparse filled with more space than sound. The emptiness between notes makes the reading of a love letter seem almost sinister, turning a song that could come across as precious into something darkly longing. When the band does air it out (briefly, at the end of "Sacred Scars,") it gives the album some well-earned weight as if everything had been leading up to one big, fuzzy crescendo.
But when "Sacred Scars" is over, there's still three quarters of an album to go, and it never gets loud again. The synth work is more of a focal point here than on some of 27's older material, but it also blends together better with the rest of the instruments. Any song might be based on a guitar riff or a piano figure or a couple of chords on a Rhodes, but they all convene nicely because the record never leaves that intimate space created by small arrangements.
There is something to be said for making a small, focused record even when the means to experiment and go bigger are available. Brittle Divinity is that rare kind of record that sounds like a personal audience with the band rather than a carefully-produced and manufactured experience. Both have their place, but 27 sounds best like this.
My favorite song, "Man on Wire," displays a bit of lyrical genius by using Phillipe Petit's World Trade Center high wire stunt (documented in the wonderful film of the same title,) as a metaphor for a precarious relationship. I loved the movie and it even delved into Petit's love life, but I never would have made the connection between the act of walking across a high wire and that treacherous act of trying to connect with someone else who seems relatively close, but perilously difficult to reach. It's brilliant.
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