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Cult of Youth
After several years of limited-release, home-recorded solo recordings, Sean Ragon's fascinating neo-folk/post-punk project has finally made its formal debut as an actual band.  While deeply flawed at times, its unusual amalgamation of paganism, acoustic instrumentation, raw power, and wild-eyed intensity can be quite electrifying when it hits the mark.
From the opening notes of "New West," it is immediately apparent that Sean has performed a striking feat of alchemy in assembling his band.  Glenn Maryansky's muscular, rolling toms; the physicality of Micki Pellerano's loud, detuned bass; the clean, floating melodies of Christiana Key's violin; and Sean's own frenzied acoustic guitar strumming and barked/snarled vocals all combine to form a very heavy and distinct aesthetic.  Ragon in particular is quite a compelling and unconventional frontman, easily holding his own against the rumbling din behind him through sheer bulging-tendon force of personality–it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that he finishes every show with bloody fingers and an utterly ravaged throat.  The band manages to hit near-perfection again on the album's ferocious closing song, "Lace Up Your Boots," which sounds like Death in June doing a raucous, go-for-broke cover of an Oi! anthem.  Unfortunately, things get a bit more complicated and ambiguous during the nine songs that separate those two highlights.
The problem is that Cult of Youth's immense energy and vision is only effective when focused properly and many of the songs seem a bit tentative, misguided, or incomplete.  I am tempted to say that this band has mastered exactly one type of song (the "angry, post-punk sea-shanty") and lose the plot whenever they attempt to diverge from that formula, but a few of their digressions are still pretty likable, such as the goth-folk of "Casting Thorns," or the beautifully melancholy "Weary."  Even some of their misfires are at least interesting, like the stomping Wicker Man-style folk-dance-on-amphetamines of "Monsters."  Ragon is clearly drawing inspiration from some curious and eccentric sources, as there are also shades of mariachi, Eastern-tinged psych, and Morricone on display.  Unfortunately, there are also several songs that are just very confusing or outright bad.  I especially have massive problems with the jazz/funk guitar chords in "The Dead Sea" and the vapid, toothless pop of "Through the Fear."  I sometimes get the feeling that Ragon is trying to stretch unfinished or dubious ideas into songs solely through manic enthusiasm and raw conviction.
The occasional schizophrenia and the huge gulf in quality between the great songs and the not-great songs make Cult of Youth a very frustrating album, but one that is still well-worth hearing, as all of the elements of a pretty great and singular band are evident.  It is always enjoyable to hear something that is this aggressively un-trendy, particularly when it is delivered with so much earnest intensity.  There is an impressive amount of guts, creativity, and ambition on display here–Ragon just needs to get a little better at consistently harnessing it.
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