Meursault - Meursault

Französischer Wein, ein Roman von Albert Camus, eine schottische Band.

Meistens muss man ein wenig scrollen, um bei der Internetrecherche auf die Indie-Rock-Band aus Edinburgh zu stoßen, die vor einigen Tagen mit dem selbst betitelten „Meursault“ ihr sechstes Studioalbum veröffwentlicht hat.

Eigentlich müsste man eher von einem Kollektiv sprechen, denn der Songwriter Neil Scott Pennycook (Gesang, Piano, Gitarre, Samples, Synthesizer) hält, bei wechselndem Lineup, die Zügel fest in seinen Händen.

Beim aktuellen Album wirkten Drew Boyd (Gitarre, Geige, Madoline), Robyn Dawson (Geige, Gesang), Calum MacLeod (Gitarre, Bass, Gesang), Fionnbarr Byrne (Synthesizer, Geige, Gitarre, Gesang), Emma Capponi (Flöte, Gesang), Reuben Taylor (Orgel) und Graeme Young (Schlagzeug) mit. 

Pennycook entwarf die Geschichte der Figuren „Meursault“ und „Sarah“, die in einer postapokalyptische Welt von Europa nach Amerika aufbrechen, verabschiedete sich dann aber von der Idee eines reinen Konzeptalbums, um auch Persönliches einfließen zu lassen oder über sein musikalisches Projekt Meursault zu reflektieren. 

Die acht Songs haben mächtigen, opulenten, energetischen Indierock („Making The Most Of The Raw Materials Of Futility“), vom Piano („Erik“)  oder Saiten-Instrumenten getragenen, balladesken Folkrock („Teacher, Was I Wrong To Burn“) und gitarrigen Post-Rock („Rats In The Corn“) zu bieten und sind digital oder als black Vinyl zu haben. Das sind aktuell meine drei Favoriten:

 

Making the Most of the Raw Materials of Futility is a relentless thrill-ride, its tense verses propelled towards euphoric choruses by gloriously chaotic synths that sound like Pac-Man on steroids, while Teacher, Was I Wrong To Burn is disarmingly specific as it delves into Pennycook’s personal life. The beautiful, weighty closing track is true to life in the way it elects not to tie things up neatly by its conclusion, and is all the more moving and relatable as a result. Few things are sugar-coated in Meursault songs. Instead, we face reality head on, bolstered by Pennycook’s empathy, passion and conviction: 'And if it seems like a lot / This is God’s work, Son’.

(The Skinny)

 

‘Rats In The Corn’ has harmonica-infused folksiness, while being arch and blunt in details that would make Cormac McCarthy (RIP) smile. Its six minutes conclude in a teetering breakdown that Meursault often cook up live but haven’t always been able to replicate on record. ‘Another, Again’ completely reimagines the song ‘Another’ (from 2010’s ‘All Creatures Will Make Merry’) to the point that it may as well be a new song – the lo-fi woodwinds manage to evoke a Prohibition-era speakeasy.

‘Making the Most of the Raw Materials of Futility’ is the seeming centrepiece, pulsing with synths and pounding drums that hit hard after a couple songs of fairly wispy piano. It’s this album’s ‘Dull Spark’, ‘A Few Kind Words’ or ‘Crank Resolutions’. The fast-paced jolt of energy that’s sure to be memorable live. ‘WOLF!!!’ is a bit of a comedown, not undeserved after this, but it’s just preparing the turf for the real pièce de résistance of the album, the album’s final song: ‘Teacher, Was I Wrong To Burn’.

(Is This Music?)

 

And what songs they are! It’s a deeply personal work – a sense in which you feel that questioning too deeply would open too many wounds and confront too many ghosts. Certain phrases leap out at you – in ‘WOLF!!’ (sic), the idea that unlike the boy from Aesop’s fable ‘When I cried wolf, there was a wolf every time.’ The mantra of ‘Meursault’ (the track) ‘If you’ve nothing nice to say, try singing it to me.’ Perhaps strongest of all are the album’s opener ‘Rats In The Corn’ which serves as the last voice on the BBC before everything went dark, or the closing ‘Teacher, Was I Wrong To Burn’ with its themes of suicide, which leave the listener feeling that they have been caught reading someone’s personal diaries, and left with too many questions that they dare not ask.

Yet it may surprise you that it’s not a bleak record because its beauty transcends it all. Amazingly, he’s done it again. Now let us hope that the majority of the record-buying public catch up. Me? I’ll be in a corner somewhere. I’m not crying, you’re crying…

(God Is In The TV)