ALBUM REVIEW
Flow Critical Lucidity By Thurston Moore
by Joe Vickrey
Prepare to be put into a trance on Flow Critical Lucidity, a record truly only Thurston Moore could have made.
I’m allowing myself to forgive Thurston Moore for breaking up Sonic Youth so I can review this record because Flow Critical Lucidity is the record I’ve always wanted him to make. Stepping beyond the aggressive and often dissonant soundscapes of his former band, Thurston has released an album that sounds like dust floating across a sunlit room. It’s a momentary beauty that can be missed if you’re not focused on it.
There’s a sense of calm and contemplation to this collection that’s fresh to those who only know him for his formative work.
Beginning with light hand percussion and wirey-plucks from behind the bridge of a Fender Jazzmaster, “New in Town” is both entirely original and totally Thurston Moore trademarked. It sets the tone for the rest of the album. Most of these songs will suck you in to a bit of a trance. Without treading on stillwater or becoming stagnant, many of the songs layer and build on a single riff and begin to morph without clearly changing between chords or sections.
There were even times where I forgot this isn’t an instrumental album. Thurston’s voice blends so gently into the mix I genuinely forgot he was singing.
His vocals are rich, experienced, and upfront all while not drawing too much attention to themselves. Perhaps the amount of space between lines are what set his approach apart from others.
There’s a beautiful stretch from the last of “Hypnogram” through “We Get High” that sounds like time has frozen, and you’re walking through someone’s memories to view the world through eyes. It feels ominous and elegant without just being a wash of reverb. “We Get High” particularly draws me in with its motifs of guitars fading in and out of focus, xylophones, and the periodic splashes of spring reverb. It’s dreamy and still. Vividly painting a foggy landscape in my mind, the six minute tracks could’ve easily kept my attention for twice as long.
The outlier of the bunch is “Shadow,” which is as close to a Sonic Youth song as we may get. Being the rowdiest in nature, it stands out for also featuring a harp-like scratchy guitar interlude as well as some twitchy-synthesizers doubling-down on the fuzzy lead guitar parts. I get the sense that the only thing that keeps most of these songs from descending into total chaos is the solitary drum loop that backs each track. Intentional or not, this helps anchor each composition to the shore for the most part.
Flow Critical Lucidity isn’t completely chained to the dock though. On the contrary, I would describe most of these songs as freeing and loose.
There’s a sense of peace throughout the collection that lets you know that Thurston Moore still enjoys what he does.
As “The Diver” closes out the album, the listener is drifted out to sea. No longer bound to the land, the music tinkles and fades as the 40-minute odyssey comes to a close.
This is a record only Thurston Moore could have made, and I’m glad he did.
Odd grooves, strange effects, and unusual intervals all feel at home here as Moore’s music ages gracefully. The relatively limited instrumentation for the albums feels grounding and gives this release a greater sense of accessibility than some of his other works. For anyone who thinks noise rock is too noisy or is looking for an entry point into the avant-garde, Flow Critical Lucidity may have you coming back for more and more.
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