Joe Meek had an ear for greatness and a brain that wanted to destroy it. Often regarded as the British counterpart of American pop production legend Phil Spector, he composed most of his greatest hits hidden in a three-storey flat in Islington above a leather shop. He was fascinated with early electronic music and esoteric necromancy in equal measure. famously dismissed the talents of a young Rod Stewart and called the Beatles “rubbish”. When he had enough of his landlady's commotion about the ruckus he was making upstairs, he turned a shotgun on her and then himself. After his death, archivists found thousands of recordings he deemed unfit for public release, including songs he created for David Bowie. In his quest to create a sound bigger than himself, Meek sabotages his own success in the name of his own exacting standards.
When Brian Oblivion and Madeline Follin first formed the Cults over a decade ago, the two bonded over a shared interest in Meek's musicianship and madness, as the former begat the latter. Since their 2011 debut, the New York duo have channeled that influence into girl group gems with a sinister undercurrent, writing songs about haunted houses easily missed thanks to Oblivion's shimmering piano and Follin's sun-drenched vocal harmonies. On their latest album, To the Ghosts, the Cults lean into the bleak beauty of Meek's story, attempting to channel the darkness into DayGlo's tunes. Five albums in, the Cults sound as eerie and happy as ever, but struggle to transcend the fleeting joys of pop-by-numbers pop.
Not to forget their influences, the album opens with an echoing bell reminiscent of Spector's greatest hits with the Ronettes. That song, “Crybaby,” does little to advance the band's sound: From rhymes about an immature lover that border on parody to synth melodies recycled from previous albums, it sets the record's predictable tone. When their songwriting ventures into new territory, it usually results in an awkward metaphor, like when Follin waxes poetic about apoptosis on “Cells” or ponders why onions make her cry on “Onions” (it's the onion).
The repetitive palette underscores why Spector's groups have transcended the passage of time while the Cults sound dated on arrival: Follin's voice simply doesn't have the texture or technique of singers like Mary Weiss of the Shangri-Las or Dolores “Dee Dee Kenniebrew of the Crystals. . Across the album's 13 songs, her voice stretches against the band's layered production (led by Follin and Oblivion, along with producer Shane Stoneback), fighting a losing battle against a particularly dense guitar riff on “Leave Home” and rushing to keep up with the propulsive electronics of “Behave”. Layered vocal harmonies keep her voice from completely fading into the background, but her parts often feel like an afterthought.
To the Ghosts it's most promising when the Cults break away from their girl inspirations and experiment with dissonance on songs like “Eat It Cold,” with its descending minor scales, rippling synths, low kick drums, and warped vocal inflections. Ironically, the band constructs the most exciting potential future in a song that literally talks about retreading the past. As a guitar pulls out a chordal melody in its final third, the band recalls the haunting sounds that made Joe Meek's productions so instantly memorable. But with too few new ideas, the Cults risk merely embellishing the well-trodden melodies of their inspirations, too consumed with crafting an immortal pop song to let it live in the moment.
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