Frenchkiss Records
Hospice is an uncomfortable recording. The music swells into gigantic storms of queasy cacophony and retreats into atmospheric migraine drizzles. Lead singer Peter Silberman operates in a binary of falsetto near-whispers and bleating eruptions. The harrowing imagery is relentless with no pockets of levity.
Telling the story of a man’s relationship with a terminally ill child the album is understandably dour. Silberman lets his emotions bleed forth from ghastly wounds throughout but instead of being overly dramatic his performance sounds convincingly pained his observations brutally genuine.
Though the music backing up Silberman doesn’t stray too far from recognizable indie rock — save for the odd ambient passage — it strengthens the unsettling feeling. A nursery rhyme melody gurgles underneath “Bear” lending eeriness to the song’s empty promises. A simple static guitar persists throughout the ebbs and flows of “Two” like a relative desperately trying to keep a brave face. The keyboards fall apart at the end of “Shiva” as the inevitable approaches.
Obviously Hospice isn’t any fun but its aching hopelessness is remarkably well-realized. Yes the album is uncomfortable but it’s damn good because of it.
