Pure, unadulterated noise (no, not the genre) – that’s what the Brooklyn-based Boggs’ third endeavor can be marveled as: A composite of punk, indie pop, tribal funk, retro-folk and Brit-rock, engaging in a full-on civil war.
Forts charts a musical journey made by the band’s only permanent member (and songwriter/lead singer) John Friedman on his way to Berlin after locking himself away for two years, revamping the sonic mess of sophomore album Stitches. In reward, Friedman has triumphantly emerged with an album that commands full attention.
Though well-versed in many instruments himself, the Boggs frontman has invited a veritable potluck of performers to enhance his daring vision: Musicians like Matt Schultz (of Enon), Sam Jayne (of Love as Laughter) and David Lloyd (of Cause for Applause) all unite to construct the deeply layered choral and instrumental build of the album.
Originally a busker in the subways of New York, Friedman has maintained his earthy, resonating mish-mash and ever-changing venue of bandmates, coating each piece with heavy vocals, guitar, drums and innumerable side instruments. Here, the title track blends pure rock ‘n’ roll thrash with African rhythms worthy of tribal ritual – add some hand-claps and punk-chick screeches, and you’ve got standard Boggs.
But if you’re at all weary of the unfamiliar, their noise can rush you like a parade of musical bee stings, leaving you swiping at unintelligible lyrics, eardrums abuzz with Friedman’s droll. The entire first half zips with fanatical success, sweeping wildly from fuzz-rock to ’50s woo-woos – well worth the fleshy ’90s-punk crash and sweeping folk acoustic that slumps the latter tracks. For every “”Forts”” there is a “”Melanie in the White Coat,”” which begins with Spanish thrust but eventually melts into sloppy repetition. The Boggs’ strength is also their weakness: So much is going on at one time that we constantly border on delight and bombardment. They are at their best when the layers are harmonized into something just shy of cacophony.
