La Fever Lit

Those who have been following Larsen's career will not be surprised by anything they hear on this album, if only because they've learned by now not to be surprised. The Italian quartet's eighth album is a fascinating collage of sounds designed originally to be played in the unique acoustic space of Torino's Mole Antonelliana, which was originally constructed as a synagogue and is now the home of the National Museum of Cinema. The program opens and closes with similarly lovely, almost Brian Eno-esque tracks that start with a drone foundation and then add layer upon glistening layer of guitars and pitched percussion until they shimmer with beauty. In between them is a collection of seven tracks that are constructed somewhat differently: more rhythmic for the most part, and many of them consisting of a swaying two-chord structure that can hardly be called a "progression." At its best, this approach yields very lovely results: on "Verge," simple lines build upon each other in a bright contrapuntal weave (though the drums seem a bit ham-handed here) and on "Partial" they bring in a cello, which is a nice touch. Other tracks seem to go on a bit longer than their musical ideas can justify, though none is less than attractive. The album's strangest element is the several vocal contributions of Little Annie (aka Annie Anxiety, for you old-school punks), who is at her best when she's at her most declamatory, and not at her best when her voice is being multitracked in 6/8 time — though her melodic screaming works very well on that particular track. Overall, this makes a strong contribution to Larsen's generally impressive catalog.