Picture Alison Moyet as a black male member of the Red Army Faction inspired by Civil Rights-era southern gospel and synthpunk band Suicide. That’ll give you some idea of the time and space Algiers occupy. An angry young trio that blend exotic menace with composure, Algiers stand on shifting sands as Babylon burns.
Franklin James Fisher is a soulful and deadpan vocalist, like Terry Hall during The Specials heyday. The trio’s rounded out by guitarist Lee Tesche and synth player Ryan Mahan. The album is separated into side-A and side-B, but the tempo remains strong and unnerving. Old Girl hits like a sledgehammer to the jaw, with lyrics like “Old girl, old girl/ l know you’re rabid with disease/ And your eyes say that you’re lying/ So l don’t care where you sleep.” But She Was Not Flying uses your head for a trampoline and then adds an angle grinder for good measure. Black Eunuch starts like a sing-along in a psychiatric ward and then has the gall to ask “So, how dare you smile so sweet?”; Games is almost like a mother’s lullaby; and In Parallax brings things to an end with a dread-filled gospel montage.
It’d be idiotic to suggest Algiers are just a paper-thin mouthpiece behind a Black Panther backdrop. The band cut deeply and draw you into their strange hinterland – many of the songs are furiously pummelling, but the air of dread is often soothed by soulful croons, hand claps and piano tinkles.
BY BRONIUS ZUMERIS
