by David Wilikofsky
Do you remember the last concert you attended before stages went silent? For me, it was a Bethlehem Steel show at Trans-Pecos in Brooklyn. I have a few vivid memories of that night, most of which seem laughable given the benefit of hindsight. I remember feeling tired around 11:00pm and wanting to bail before the headliner even played (in the end, I did stick it out). I remember that distinct lower back pain you get from standing around a concert for hours. These are problems I wish I could have today. But even more than all these trivial complaints I remember the energy when Bethlehem Steel played that final set. There was that palpable sense of communal catharsis in the air that is almost impossible to capture on tape.
I’m mostly familiar with Good Willsmith from their last album, 2016’s Things Our Bodies Used To Have. That album pulled together drone, twinkling synths, noise and many other elements to create abstract, textured compositions. This album presents a strikingly different sound, one until now unheard outside of live shows. Although all the elements of Good Willsmith’s previous output are still present, those sounds have been contorted into improvisational prog rock explorations. Opener “Dolphin” is downright pretty, moving between shimmering ambiance and guitar solos. “The Burning Orphanage Sidequest” is a much heavier track, driven by a strong beat and crushing guitar riffs. Closer “Third Eyebrow” feels like a jam session, each member of the trio take the spotlight for a solo. While this new direction doesn’t come out of the blue (see BBSitters Club, a classic rock group whose members include two thirds of Good Willsmith) it is nonetheless an unexpected reinvention of the group’s sound.
I tend not to be a fan of live albums. With a few notable exceptions (I’m looking at you The Name Of This Band Is Talking Heads) I rarely love a live recording as much as a studio version of a song. Recording a live show often feels like an attempt to capture lightning in a bottle; some of the magic of the show fades when you’re not there in the flesh. This album doesn’t suffer from this defect. Not only does the recording manage to capture the band firing on all cylinders but also the energy of the night. You can hear chatter and laughter in the background of “Not Your Kids”. There’s that one guy who howls and whoos at the end of every song. There’s a track of stage banter, including a command to “give your friend a hug”. These details imbue the recording with a specificity often lacking from these types of projects. Given everything that’s happened over the past year, it feels alien and comforting at the same time. It serves as a reminder that one day we’ll be back at shows, and we’ll have our minds blown by groups like Good Willsmith again. We’ll hear sounds that may never find their way onto a record. Even if our backs hurt, we’ll love every minute of it.