Фирма Joyful Noise

Rat-a-Tat-Tat! Is that the sound of the reaper knocking on your door to collect your soul -- or Dale Crover hammering out another distinctive drum fill? There are pretty good odds it's the latter; between 36 years (and about as many full-lengths and

Tim Melina Theo Bobby, Joan of Arc's final album, might be their most personal and adventurous to date, culminating the band's many inspired, divergent sounds into one self-reflective, conclusive statement. Joan of Arc always felt like an experimental intersection of its members interests. As prolific of a band as they have been, none of the albums sounded the same, none of the albums imagined themselves as too big to fail in the name of trying something new. They always felt like more of a collective than anything else. A smattering of gifted contributors, fighting their way through their own creative whims. Their shows, a type of controlled chaos. A chaos that required a close and gentle ear, or else one might miss the delicate daggers of lyric woven into the walls of sound, the walls of slow movement. ­It is good to determine your own endings; for yourself, but also for the sake of whatever comes next. To have the band going out on their own terms, still steeped in their own sound_melancholic, but biting; cynical, but also witty; a sonic forest that is both comfortable, but also a little treacherous. We are used to mourning moments like this, letting go of a beloved band. But a listener can hear in this album that these people still love making music together. They're still excited by how far they can push each other creatively. And to know that and still decide that you have given all you can give as a band is a real gift. It is better this way, to lay a project down at the feet of fans, and listeners, and have it treated with joy, and not sadness. Musicians owe growth to themselves, they owe exploration, and excitement, and eager noise-making to themselves. Whatever fans get out of that, at the end of the day, is something we should all be grateful for. And in the case of Joan of Arc, we got over two decades of it

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Helvetia were formed in Seattle in 2005 by Jason Albertini. Since the band's inception, he's employed a rotating cast of band members and collaborators, which now includes Steve Gere and Samantha Stidham. Albertini is 1/3 of the group Duster, who spent 2019 releasing a new album and playing shows for the first time in 20 years. Naturally, Helvetia share a lot of the same sensibilities, pushing Duster's boundary-bending ideals even further out with a mix of odd pop and eccentric oddities. Helvetia made their debut in 2006 with 'The Clever North Wind' (released on Duster bandmate Clay Parton's Static Cult label), followed by 'The Acrobats' (2008) and 'Headless Machine Of The Heart' (2009). With each release, Helvetia explored more psych-influenced territory, further developing their take on slow core. After a handful of additional releases for The Static Cult, Albertini relocated to Portland, Oregon, and released 2012?s 'Nothing In Rambling', his first with Joyful Noise Recordings. Albertini joined Built To Spill on bass the same year, and the two bands shared members and toured together. 'Dromomania', Helvetia's eighth LP, was released in October 2015, followed by the 'Sun Chasers' EP in 2017. Albertini continued to play bass for Built To Spill until 2019, when Duster started playing shows again. After a very busy year of touring, Albertini spent the summer recording 'This Devastating Map' at his home studio. While the mighty Duster dwelled in a broken down space station lost to the cosmos, Helvetia's sound is decidedly more earthbound: guitars sparkle and soar beyond their means with hushed vocals transcribing aching personal struggles. Helvetia ditches conventional song structure in favor of bouts of repetition in which Albertini rewards the listener with unlikely hooks, juxtaposing memorable figures with odd shapes that desire repeated listens