Review: Mclusky – the world is still here and so are we
The prospect of a Mclusky return was an odd one. Over two decades following the release of The Difference Between Me And You Is That I’m Not On Fire, the expectations for what a new record from the band would bring were pretty uncertain. With the death of Steve Albini and the years of development in projects like Christian Fitness and Future Of The Left, it was at least clear that it wouldn’t be a straight continuation from an album like Mclusky Do Dallas or something. the world is still here and so are we is an interesting response to that uncertainty—a frenetic, tense album that pulls from Mclusky’s back catalog while also expanding their sound with the progression from the members’ other projects over the years.
Beginning the album, “unpopular parts of a pig” is honestly the sort of platonic ideal of a return you’d hope for from a band like Mclusky: the precise and rabid playing off of each other, acerbic lyrics betrayed with bizarre, effected delivery, only to be interrupted by Falco’s unique fox-wailing harshness. I read some people that were put off by the faux-accented cleans but it’s the sort of irreverent mission statement I’d have hoped for on a McLusky return.
“cops And coppers” has the sort of muscular, precision rhythm you’d hear on a lot of Future Of The Left’s material, and it’s a much more traditionally rocking song than you’d expect from Mclusky, much more palatable in its delivery. “way of the exploding dickhead” has a familiar two-note ostinato, not a million miles away from the chorus of “Falco Vs The Young Canoeist.” It’s an interesting back-to-back match because there’s a lot of musical tension in both tracks that goes unresolved, with “way of the exploding dickhead” feeling oddly muted. In context of the record their tone succeeds due to their place in the tracklist, but I think the latter was an odd choice for a lead single in retrospect, as its neither indicative of the albums sound and doesn’t have much appeal in that sort of isolated context – it feels unresolved, like watching a lit fuse burn towards faulty dynamite that never blows up.
“the battle of los angelsea” is thick, dominant and on the heavier end of Mclusky’s back catalogue. How it mounts in intensity through subtle instrumentation and overdubs is signature Mclusky, always shaking mountains despite being just a three-piece set-up; the song is defined by these enormous one-two bass slams on its refrain. “people person” is the least interesting track on the album to me, comparatively flat and underwritten, saved mostly by the snarky vocal delivery and the wit of the lyrics. The moments where the lead guitar is given the spotlight feel anemic, like an archetypal guitar freakout just being suppressed by the weight of the production.
With its slick bass and sparser percussion, “competent horse thief” is a surprisingly smooth track; even its backing vocals in the second half feel like a chilled out version of the barked gang vocals of hardcore. It’s an atypical but very solid track, creating a unique atmosphere both on the album and in their discography.
For all its low-end intensity so far, the album feels like it’s lacking a full-force assault until “kafka-esque novelist franz kafka,” a song that reminds me a little in spirit of a track like “KKKitchens What Were You Thinking.” It’s short, explosive and lyrically biting while retaining the band’s trademark irreverence.
“the digger you deep” is grand, though its main hook never grips in the way it intends, and it’s stuck in limbo between traditional melodic flair and noise-punk bitterness —I feel an alternate version of the song where they focused more on the sour anti-melodies between the vocals and guitars present here would have been stronger. As it is, it has a thick sound but never truly feels heavy, noisy or overwhelming.
“autofocus on the prime detective” has the clearest rhythmic identity on the album, and the rigidity of the instrumentation paired with the throaty, strained vocals is a massive highlight. It feels like two elements jostling for dominance in the mix, leaving the track with a palpable, persistent energy despite its start-stop composition.
“not all steeplejacks” is slower, with a deliberately laboured stretch to its writing. A lot of bands would struggle to make that transition gracefully but Mclusky craft a track that, despite its dense lyrical content, has an almost mantra-like quality to it, emphasized by the “always complicated” variations of the chorus. For their reputation as a loud and fast group, Mclusky have always thrived in slower-paced tracks that have this scummy undercurrent of threat to them.
“chekhov’s guns'” chugging, stern bass riffing is complimented by the almost militaristic percussion, then completely betrayed by the off-kilter guitar work and uncertain, increasingly unhinged vocals. It’s another track with a great fucking progression, the sort of track you hear something new in each time you listen. Following this is the most direct and perhaps most vintage Mclusky track on the record—reminding me a lot of something from the My Pain And Sadness... era—”juan party-system” is brief but blistering, with barked vocals that render the lyrics like demented campaign slogans.
“hate the polis” is a big highlight in the Mclusky catalogue and is a massive high point to leave on. The track’s explosive climax joins all the disparate elements of the album, all its sourness and brightness, into one congealed, filthy but oddly addictive eruption of rock music; those wee chirped backing vocals are fucking perfect, a genuinely inspired choice that could have been horrendous had it been in the hands of any other band.
“hate the polis” is also a reassuring ending because it shows Mclusky at their best over 25 fucking years into their career. If that isn’t a cause for celebration, what is? Whatever Mclusky’s future is from here on out, if we never hear another album from them again, the world is here and so are we is an excellent note to close on.
4/5 Flaming Toilets ov Hell
the world is here and so are we is out now on Ipecac Recordings.
