Silent EM
Real Life
DKA Records
We last heard from NYC darkwave act Silent EM (aka Jean Lorenzo) in 2019, when their album The Absence impressed us with its strident and hard hitting take on darker-flavoured electronic dance music. In the intervening years we’ve heard more mingling of the electro-darkwave genre with body music and techno, but what new Silent EM LP Real Life brings to the table is the same feeling of desperation and uneasiness that defined its predecessor, albeit with some broader changes in approach.
The chief amongst these is the addition of more melodic and groovy compositions, providing some respite from the starker and more anxious songs that defined previous releases. That the album opens up with “Heart Sinking”, with its speedy, ascending bassline, peels of guitar and crystalline pad sounds feels appropriate; it’s not so far off from what you’d expect from a new Silent EM song, but its mood and instrumentation come across as more fluid, and less fraught than the funk by force of the past. Indeed, it’s almost a bit strange to hear Lorenzo sing a song like “Institution”, forgoing his stern and anguished vocals for a more matter of fact delivery that suits the song’s new wavey bounce, complete with stereo-panned grunts and rolling drums. With studio assists from Automelodi’s Xavier Paradis, it’s not entirely surprising to hear a bit more variety in textures and atmospheres here (Xarah Dion collab “Europa” certainly has their fingerprints on it), but it’s not at the expense of Silent EM’s established identity.
To that end, there’s a healthy dollop of the fast-moving, densely programmed sounds that are the band’s stock and trade here. “World of Sin” has the band’s signature combination of impactful drums, high-strung synthlines and relentless momentum, tightly assembled with care taken to allow space for Lorenzo’s wounded yowl. “Survive” slows things down, but its shrill synth trills and ghostly progression as layers of reverb and throbbing bass intermingle transforms the project’s stress and tumult into a more subtle if no less effective disquiet. Old and new meet on cuts like “My Versions of Hell” where sturm and drang are supported by inhuman choral sounds and speedy guitar riffs, familiar and novel in equal measures.
Real Life is something new from an act who had their aesthetics well-established, and with a move like that there’s always the danger that changing what worked could lead to a dilution of that identity. Thankfully Lorenzo has a good grasp of his project’s main appeal, supplementing his stormy ennui with fresh and invigorating ideas and approaches.
