Beheaded is an oddly arid and precise album for being so depressed. Most indie-rock signifiers of angst are dispensed with: no atmospheric tape hiss, no conspicuous use of the word "fuck," no urgency whatsoever. The emotions that do fill the album - desire, doubt, confusion - feel travel-weary; no longer struggled with, they've been respectfully, wholly surrendered to. The result is an eviscerated yet tranquil sound. Bedhead's solemnity can at times grow cloying (besides the mortician's quiet vocals, there's the eternity-long sustained final notes), but these few ponderous touches are far overshadowed by the hauntingly lucid melodies, coiling and engulfing with the power of a truly fatal seduction. Wounded souls browsing fur music to commiserate with might find that Bedhead offers the most satisfying embrace, but one so tightly sympathetic It'll make you anxious about ever breaking free.
- LANE RELYEA
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|Article Type:||Sound Recording Review|
|Date:||Oct 1, 1996|
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