The moment it all clicks into place for me comes midway through the album, on a track called “in/THE END.” This, itself, is an irony onto itself, putting a song with that title smack into the middle of the tracklisting. But the real moment of truth, during my second full listen of the album, happens as the song transitions from its modest opening stretches — a filtered harmonization, between two voices made to sound somewhat childlike, backed by soft distorted guitar and light keyboard, already an anomaly among the album’s guitar-heavy slant backed by deep synths — into a boldly expansive mid-tempo rock ballad. It’s unexpected, but fits in entirely with what Le Butcherettes do as a whole on bi/MENTAL.
I think the best place to start is with that album title. From their earliest days, Le Butcherettes have been driven by duality, musically meshing their punk influences and attitudes with anthemic, soaring hooks and choruses. Think The Kills meets Fever to Tell-era Yeah Yeah Yeahs, with a wealth of heavily political and polemic lyricism. Much of bi/MENTAL sonically resembles the band’s first full-length, Sin Sin Sin, an exceptionally underrated gem that wedded the group’s punk sensibilities with strong melodic impulses. But there’s a deliberate acknowledgment of this dualism on bi/MENTAL, one that the band plays into and builds as the unifying factor for these tracks, in everything from the track names that follow the album title’s formatting to the variety of approaches to subject matter.
There’s a world of difference between, say, the rebellious voice fighting back against abuse on the groove-driven rocker “strong/ENOUGH” and the darker acknowledgment of unceasing hierarchically-induced uphill battles on the galloping “struggle/STRUGGLE,” but that’s ultimately the point Le Butcherettes are trying to make. Both things can exist simultaneously: the awareness of ever-present conflict — how it interferes with one’s life, presents additional challenges that those with privilege don’t face — and the absolute refutation to willingly let it persist, that one can be strong enough to break that cycle with this awareness. Speaking about the album in a press statement, frontwoman Teresa Suárez Cosío (aka Teri Gender Bender) said, “I have to start making room for myself. I can’t let this torment me.” In a sense, then, the lyrical content of the album becomes a means for Suárez Cosío to do just that: make room for herself by pushing back against the ways that room has been denied her.
The compositions on bi/MENTAL make the listen just as compelling as the lyricism. The aforementioned “in/THE END” makes for one of the more unique listens of Le Butcherettes’ catalogue with its strong melodic backbone and playing with dynamics, as can be said of powerfully divided album closer “/BREATH,” which suddenly opens into a powerful emotional rush that ends just as unexpectedly as it begins. The creative twisting of the title on “give/UP” works wonders against the low, stabbing guitar chords on the chorus. Perhaps one of the best highlights comes from the Spanish-sung “la/SANDÍA,” a mellower parable that filters the album’s themes through narrative metaphor.
And then there’s Suárez Cosío’s varied and virtuosic vocal performances throughout the album, always one of the biggest draws on any Le Butcherettes album. She makes strong use of pluralism in her vocal modes, often working in audible scowls or gentler tones during the verses, before letting loose with loudened shouts during anthemic choruses. Her voice — and command over her words — is just as much of a pivotal instrument as anything else on the album, no clearer anywhere else than in how she finds several permutations on how to sing the title on “struggle/STRUGGLE.”
Beyond these moments, the dualism that the album works to convey emerges in the appearances of guest vocalists as well. The album’s opening track, “spider/WAVES,” a slinking mid-tempo organ-led jam, keeps Suárez Cosío in the spotlight vocally until giving way to a spoken word outro from Dead Kennedys vocalist Jello Biafra. Toward the end of the album, feminist punk forebearer Alice Bag lends her yelps and screams to the euphorically bonkers standout “mother/HOLDS,” a track seemingly about familial or hereditary trauma. This song’s no-holds-barred energy makes it an absolute thrill to listen to, with Bag’s throat-shredding lending a visceral backdrop to Suárez Cosío’s embattled words.
All this comes together to create a complete package that’s just as engaging to pick apart as it is to listen to. More than any previous Le Butcherettes release, bi/MENTAL shows a bold commitment to cohesion and tapestry-like thematic weaving. Yet, one of the strongest moments on all of bi/MENTAL comes from its most straightforward track. “father/ELOHIM” is the shortest song on the album, clocking in at just over two minutes, but leaves all the more impact for how it stands out among the rest of the tracklist. A pummeling and direct punk piece that seems destined to become a live staple for the band, the track sees Suárez Cosío charting a dual history of the figures in the title, punctuating each verse with a defiant “And still they wanna fuck with us some more!” Whether the tone of these exclamations is meant to be in disbelief or with a knowing sense of power, each repetition of this line hammers in the purest distillation of the album’s themes: when a struggle has been going on so frequently and incessantly — and when the people fighting back against oppressive forces have continued to push back louder and louder — why would anyone want to fuck with those known to fight back with such fervor, such tenacity, those who know they’re strong enough to fight back?
Le Butcherettes play Brighton Music Hall tonight at 8 pm, with doors at 7pm and support from Stars at Night and Elsewhere. The band’s latest album, bi/MENTAL, is out now on Rise Records. Stream it below.
Odd Blue Fruit 