- Braindrops is the second album in as many years from Tropical Fuck Storm and an album that leaps over the mordant bar set by its predecessor. Their sophomore album heightens the energy but does so by being less outwardly jarring. This may simply be a result of the band becoming more familiar, but, hey, I still wouldn't describe what they do as 'easily digestible'. Taking full advantage of the vocalist trio present in the group and the ability to capture a listener’s attention with a left-field turn of phrase and a skill for storytelling akin to Frank Herbert, Braindrops is its own being. It can sound slovenly, drifting, but even at its most enervated there's still something mean and strident at work. Barely held together at times with strung out melodies and clunky rhythms, the songs seem like a despondent recollection of buried, painful memories. When they bite and latch on with sharp wit and repetitive phrases, each blooms like flowers through concrete; the ugliness seems intentional and rewards the listener for bearing the brunt.
Pointed guitar noodles pile onto one another during Paradise’s opening moments before Garreth Liddiard's broken drawl cuts through with quiet viciousness. The release of tension is quickly brought under control, around the two-minute mark, which is a red herring as aside from the brief interlude, the piercing guitar lead mocks Liddiard’s exact vocal melody during the second chorus. Swelling to a close and fading into the tight groove of A Planet of Strawmen, the guitar / vocal duality is brought back into effect. As the turbulent track closes out, the guitar again imitates what the vocals are doing, making sure that if you can’t remember the exact lyrics, the stabbing tune will be nailed into you. Lines like “…got some Looney Tunes biology”, “picking Chinese cotton on the moon soon”, and the genius rhyme of “coup de grace” with “**** a movie star” are enhanced by the ugly exterior in some kind of game of one upsmanship. Who Is My Eugene? is, in contrast, the most straightforward song here. Its simple, no frills instrumental brims over past one of the choruses into a scorching solo and back again. Psychedelic vocal elements on this track and the following The Happiest Guy Around are a welcome offset to the otherwise gaunt palette of the record. The moments of levity do become more prominent as the album draws to a close.
In amongst all the battering sonics and freewheeling dysfunction, Tropical Fuck Storm throw up so many memorable moments. There’s snippets of each song that will remain stuck with you for the combination of simply constructed, out-there catchphrases and their pairing with an appropriately lurid musical backing. Outside of those snippets, unless you like a challenge and experimental rock is really your thing, it might not be for you. You may get a little battered and bloodied finding out, but hey, you takes your Braindrops and you takes your chances.
- Matt Lynch.