by David Wilikofsky
I’ve recently gotten into Hades, possibly the best video game released this year. For those not in the know, you play as Zagreus, a prince of the underworld. Your only goal: escape hell. This requires traversing the many levels of hell and slaying all the evil spirits and creatures that stand in your way. If you die (and you die often), you return back to the start of the game in the depths of hell to try again. It’s a simple concept, but one executed so brilliantly that you’re eager to traverse the same path over and over again. I’ve found myself soundtracking my escape from hell with a certain type of music: loud, fast and aggressive. One of the records in constant rotation for my escape attempts has been Lucidvox’s debut album, We Are.
Lucidvox was formed in 2013 by four Muscovites: Alina, Nadezhda, Galla and Anna. Most of the members had never played an instrument before forming the band, and their early repertoire largely consisted of covers. Their original material slowly evolved over time; songs started as ideas for a riff or melody that were collectively fleshed out through improvisation and collaborative writing. Their sound is loud and intense, sometimes heavy and sometimes sludgy, but never quite straightforward. Take the rhythmic shifts of “Body”, which sees the band constantly locking into a groove only to abandon it, or “Amok”, an off-kilter track that lurches forward. These songs bear the mark of their writing process, each musical twist or turn feeling spontaneous rather than calculated. It also leads to music that offers immediate and hidden pleasures; come for the riffs, stay for the complex rhythmic details.
In your journey through the underworld, the gods on Mount Olympus pop in to provide assistance. They’ll provide a special power or a gift to aid you in your escape. Perhaps I’m projecting, but I feel this heaven / hell dichotomy throughout the album. Tracks like “You Are” contrast etherial vocals with heavy riffs. The vocals feel like a message from heaven, floating above the chaos beneath. Whether or not you buy this, I do undoubtedly hear an almost religious mysticism within this music. The band cites Russian folk songs as a major influence, but often the vocals remind me of the religious chants of my youth. This can be easily heard in the opening moments of the album, where the ornate, drawn out delivery feels akin to something you might hear during High Holidays in synagogue. I’m sure there is some cross pollination between Jewish cantorial tradition and Eastern European folk music, because those initial moments (and many others) feel intimately familiar to me.
There’s likely a lot lost in translation here. I can’t understand the lyrics (the band writes exclusively in Russian), nor do I share the same musical reference points. Nonetheless, there’s a lot to love. The sheer physicality of their sound thrills. The delicacy of the vocals highlights that instrumental intensity without allowing one to overpower the other. The rhythmic complexity of these songs rewards those willing to listen closely. It’s all imbued with a mysticism that falls somewhere between religious and psychedelic. All in all, it’s a stellar debut, and yet another reminder that there’s great, original rock music happening all over the world.