Ian Sweet’s debut Shapeshifter is odd right out of the gate. Bittersweet guitars are plucked lazily and put through what sounds like a subdued flange pedal while Jilian Medford sings somewhat lazily. As an opener, it’s kitschy but effective.
“Slime Time Live,” the second track on the record, is much more straightforward, although it seems as if all the meandering calm of the first track is traded in for a much more energetic yet still hazy and vaguely lopsided instrumentation. It’s not quite punk, but it’s not quite the stuff of ballads either.
Also, it’s interesting to note that many instances on this record (separate, individual aspects of different songs) heavily recall Big Thief’s Masterpiece. Now, the obvious comparison is, yes, we’ve got two female singers kicking ass while still providing an ethereal yet unmistakable femininity. However, songs like “#23” turn a straightforward, fuzzy, slowly moving groove into a jam that’s somehow not held back by all the fuzzy distortion which permeates every single aspect of the track, from the vocals (which croon with longing one moment, and squeak playfully the next) to the multiple guitars used on the track, somehow still discernable through the haze.
Some tracks, such as “Cactus Couch” can’t seem to decide just *what they are. With an intro that’s more rock than anything else, a pre-chorus that’s essentially a blurry folk track, and a breakdown that incorporates not-quite-jarring tempo changes, “Cactus Couch” defies anticipation, always proving the listener wrong. At six minutes, though, the track is just too amorphous, melting into a frankly overly vague collection of sounds. The only saving grace afforded to the track comes by way of Jillian Medford’s vocals which, always at the forefront, anchor the track.
Perhaps that’s why “All Skaters Go To Heaven,” which initially comes off as unfocused, after a second listen reveals itself to be the best track on the record. Its lack of focus grounded by Medford’s concretely ethereal vocals, the instrumental aspect of “All Skaters Go To Heaven” is allowed to quite literally run amuck. Sparse pauses and Medford’s energetic vocals hold the track together more than any explicitly evident cohesive instrumental direction.
But it’s this sense of looseness which makes Shapeshifter as engaging as it is. Half the time Medford’s singing is hidden behind layers of reverb and distortion, despite the tracks not being overly energetic. On “Knife Knowing You” for example, Medford’s more of an instrumental addition than the focus of attention. Perhaps disorientingly, we’re not presented with any individual aspect to hone in on, but rather a moving, shifting soundscape to envelop ourselves in.
The bitter sweetness of opener “Pink Marker” and closer “Pink Marker 2” encapsulate the record in a mist which waxes and wanes throughout, urging us to listen through it, and rewarding our focus with a record that seemingly defies categorization into a genre, but is doubly rewarding just the same.
