No More Like This

デビュー作『BLUSH』に続くアルバム。トリップホップ、エレクトロニカ、オルタナティブ、テクノ、インディーを融合し、MF Doom、Massive Attack、The Knifeなどから影響を受けたエレクトロニック・トリオPVA。今作は、欲望、遊び、献身、服従、反復、そして省察といったテーマを探求し「インデンテーション(凹み/刻印)」という発想を軸に展開。他者の欲望に満ちた水に浸かりながら、このアルバムは問いかけます――私たちは本当に何を望んでいるのか? 本物の「欲望」をどう知ることができるのか?

After disappearing for a few years following the release of their debut album Blush, PVA returns transformed on No More Like This. Ella Harris, Josh Baxter, and Louis Satchell used to create drama through sheer volume and density; now, its because they know how to sculpt the air. On the opening track "Rain," they waste no time seizing the possibilities of a new beginning. The atmosphere once buried beneath Blushs distortion becomes the focal point, and as Harris vocals circle like an incantation and pitch-bending synths stretch to the heavens, the bands newfound confidence in openness is clear. Its the first sign that instead of charging forward like they did on Blush, PVA are taking a more winding path. Not only do No More Like This experiments depart from their debut, they often differ dramatically from each other. On “Enough,” the trio delivers gritty, low-slung anti-pop thats as claustrophobic as “Rain” was expansive -- and when Harris purrs “I don’t get much/But I get enough," she revisits Blushs sensuality with a wink. Soft sexiness is also a powerful tool on the zero-gravity seduction of "Boyface," one of many times PVA build on trip-hops legacy. Fortunately, they avoid the glossy complacency that suffocated the style in the 2000s in favor of the unpredictable juxtapositions and dynamics of trip-hops innovators. The foggy clank of "Mate" could be a collaboration between Beak> and Massive Attack; despite its sophistication, there’s nothing smooth about it. Much of this tension comes from the albums production. Working with Tirzah collaborator Kwake Bass, PVA warp their sound just enough to give No More Like This a bewitching oddness without smothering its rough edges and raw nerves. The results are particularly striking on "Anger Song": strings collide with what sounds like someone banging on pots and pans, and Harris attains a shivery vibrato worthy of Beth Gibbons as she tries to "keep the stars in the sky tonight." Compared to her contemporaries, Harris sprechgesang delivery is remarkably understated, yet it sounds more versatile than ever here. On "Peel," her uneasy balance of speaking, singing, and whispering heightens the mood of visceral detachment. The slightest shifts of her voice trigger seismic changes on "Send," a grinding industrial workout that shows PVA can still follow Factory Floors stomping footsteps. And on "Okay," Harris repetition of that word flickers almost imperceptibly between acquiescence, wariness, and resignation. By prizing nuance, PVA take a decisive step forward; like the bare, imprinted flesh on its cover, No More Like This leaves a subtle yet lingering mark. ~ Heather Phares