Even if it can be somewhat tiresome due to its cyclical repetition, Jaz Coleman’s production really captured the the band's intense, explosive delivery, and its powerful punch is undeniable. Anamnesis feels like a very unique mix of Discharge and ESG.
To catch the eye of a (music) heavyweight is no small feature for a modest independent band to accomplish, specially when this particular fat cat happens to be the frontman of one of the most renowned bands on the planet. Liquidarlo Celuloide, the noisy peruvian post-punk outfit, managed to impress none other than Jaz Coleman in all of his ghoulish glory, after they opened for Killing Joke in Lima, back in 2018. The impact was such, that he even offered to produce their new release, and so began this process of transformation for the band, which culminated on this year’s Anamnesis, under the Buh Records label. This seemed to be destined for victory; a match made in heaven, some would say.
It’s safe to say that it certainly seemed that way. It wouldn’t have been wrong to assume as such; after all, Liquidarlo Celuloide’s interesting combination of noise and post-punk seemed to perfectly fit under Coleman’s wing, right? Right?
Well, it is a little complicated and the results are somewhat mixed. Every cut is actually great: the guitars and bass incur in riffs that feel thick and heavy as fuck, and the drums are a relentless, non-stoppable force that destroys everything it crashes with; it's just too bad everything is confined to a really tight compositional space. The songs feel like they don't have any room to breathe or grow, and their aggressiveness even comes off as if they were desperately trying to break away from the chains that bind them, but are obligated to return to the same parts over and over. Most of the tracks only consist of three sections, which repeat endlessly in a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-verse-bridge-verse-chorus formula that proves to be a corrosive agent to the songs' structure, slowly deteriorating their core as they move forward.
Even if the composition can be somewhat tiresome, what saves the album from being a total miss, is Coleman’s production: it really captures the the band's intense and explosive delivery, and its powerful punch is undeniable. In some tracks, Liquidarlo’s guitars vibrate with that distinctive Killing Joke-ish wobbly metallic sound, as we can appreciate on “Erupción’s” nervous and frenetic delivery.
“Asfixia” opens up with Branca-style dynamics: a menacing riff oscillating between two chords -and a slight variation- with the drums following the same rhythmic pattern, making the song feel enormous, with a gravity of its own, as everyone is locked in unison. This ferociously fat sound is equally replicated on almost every track and, along with the danceable, cyclical nature of the songs, make Anamnesis feel like a very unique mix of Discharge and ESG. “Asfixia” is great opening salvo, but it really didn’t need to be almost nine minutes long.
The album doesn’t have weak moments per se, but some cuts suffer more than others due to their meandering nature: “Perversión” -their collaboration with Coleman- is one of the most affected, and not because it lacks quality (how could it, with Jaz’s diabolical vocal delivery?), but its stop-and-start structure does not combine well with repetitiveness. The staccato guitar lines beg to be resolved; instead, we just hear them gradually losing their power every time they come back.
In true post-punk fashion, Liquidarlo Celuloide even have a dub piece to finish off the album, and it effectively helps appease the listener after the endless sonic attack delivered by the previous songs. The transition could have failed terribly, but LC make it work and it the way it just comes right in, without a fancy, effect-filled intro, feels great. It may be ridden by all the genre's staples, but "Bajo el Río de Neón's" riddim is contagious and it closes the album with some needed variation.
Despite its tremendous energy, Anamnesis’ lack of exploration and expansion diminishes the enjoyment of what could have been an excellent, very nuanced record, that masterfully mixed post-punk, metal, dub and no-wave with seamless fluidity; but, as good as the music is (and it is good), the band fails to pave the way for something new to arise from their primordial sludge of feedback and atonality. However, even within all their constraints, they do seem to be striving for advancement and progress instead of being a run-of-the-mill post-punk project. Liquidarlo Celuloide sounds modern, fresh and heavy, instead of sounding like a (bad) Television-Joy Division rip-off.
