With two albums already sent out to sea, the Seattle-based progressive rock band has carved for themselves a niche in the indie community as the “silly” band that name songs “Hey, Wanna Throw Up? Get Me Naked” or “Monkey!!! Knife!!! Fight!!!” With the chilly pensiveness felt on Planet of Ice the recently reformed band (former sound engineer Alex Rose now plays synthesizer, electronics) tries to shake off the “silly” tag as something of a misnomer.

What remains though is what has always marked the band as attractive – their polyrhythmic beats. Supplied by drummer Erin Tate, they propel the opening song “Burying Luck.” Even the name of the song conveys a sense of death, and the possibly of resurrection for a band mired in triviality. Alex Rose’s warbling synths wilt and struggle as lead singer Jake Snider emotes “Will he take her love?.” The frigid despair of rejection is chronicled throughout an album that appears to remain mired in its own gravitas.

Minus the Bear’s oscillating guitar jams on “Knights” showcases their best ability to tighten and recoil upon their rhythmic structures like a snake about to let loose venom.

On “White Mystery”, Snider sings, “lay under bright lights,” to his Venus with enough emotion to make you think he has necrophilia. The supposed sex-release at the close of the song feels languid to the point of uncomfortable

Still the human voice (even Snider’s) is never quite as expressive as any piece of electronic equipment but the synths feel extra cold and expressionless on songs like “Dr. L’Ling.” The self-proclaimed “business man of the heart” sings with little force again. The dueling guitars brood and parry as the drum kit tumbles down with pensive synths.

The time signatures jostle about, as well, but don’t particularly end up anywhere in particular. Like somebody encased in an icy tomb of a bad mood, the lyrics are repeated like self-fulfilling prophecies, “don’t hand me your hand-me-down love.” The topic of rejection remains and the taxi pulls with another man inside.

The mid-point of the album, supplies the appropriately titled instrumental track “Part 2.” It sports a jazzy guitar solo that brings something light to the proceedings. Like a sputtering engine, the song slowly whirs to a close and the energetic pop-rock song ‘Throwing Shapes” whirly-gigs about for a while. “Double Vision Quest” utilizes organ-like synths and vast vaporous guitar noodling and finishes extremely strong. The sun finally breaks through to melt the icy world the band inhabits.

As a closer, “Lotus,” proves to be a revelatory break from gaping across the empty ether at disparaged relationships havocked by distance and emotional turmoil. It scrutinizes the influence of religion on government, particularly in association with war. It’s a surprising lyrical turn for an album with its head in the sand.

Planet of Ice is a finally crafted album its execution remains in flux. Its isolation never receives any context outside of its own torpor. Like a sample board stuck oscillating between two tones it repeats structures we’re heard from the band before. Only now the prog-rockers intone with a darker palette and accrued restraint. It’s a serious album from a serious band.
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Links
Minus The Bear [official site] [myspace] [buy it]