After the warped alt-pop of last year’s Transgelic Exodus, outsider pin-up Ezra Furman’s announcement of the “punk album [he] always dreamed of making” is sure to be welcome news to anyone who has followed his rise to prominence over the past decade or so, as this single could be the most thrilling thing he’s released since the very beginning.
Calm Down… is, on the face of it, a jagged and jerky nod to the late 70s, when the brutality of Punk transformed into the colourful vibrancy of New Wave – all fuzzed-out major chords and agitated, stop/start structure, evoking Pixies and Minutemen alike. It’s the ideal setting for Furman’s brand of agitated, glamorous neuroses, more so than say, the affected Doo-Wop stylings of Perpetual Motion People or his more earnest, Dylan-esque moments. Here is a songwriter known for his blistering intensity stripping away stylistic frills in favour of something more raw.
Consequently, Furman sounds invigorated and well suited to the neon-lit, lipstick n’ cigs trashiness of his new direction, heard in his howled vocals, verging on psychobabble as he spits verses of speedy angst: “Happiness was never guaranteed, I wanted nothing more than to open up and bleed.” He describes it as “a slice of pure agitated rage”, and Furman’s visceral delivery and brutal lyrics certainly give it an authenticity which prevent it from drifting into dumb punk parody – instead resulting in his most urgent, exciting single since 2008’s Take Off Your Sunglasses.
Still the real deal fighting against a tide of froth, Calm Down… is Furman is at his unflinching best.
GROUNDED. 