A strained, male voice works it’s way through a rambling fear. Jumping between extra-dimensional beings, area 51, and global disasters, this is not so much any sort of coherent speech, but a checklist. This man is weeping his way through his many fears. Beneath this sits a low rumble. An ominous string quartet, sawing in short, measured strokes. Slowly chipping away at sanity. Then, a piano enters, emitting a staggered thump.
Thus begins “Now You Are One of Us”, the fourth full-length album by the Paper Chase, and my personal favorite. It’s all the jagged glory of the band’s sound, perfectly encapsulated and executed by it’s main orchestrator, John Congleton. His mind has always been at the forefront, as their first release, “Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know”, was simply a way for Congleton to work through his frequent panic attacks.
That tone has continued throughout the bands work, with one singular idea being the common thread: Fear. In the rare press coverage the band receives, their sound is often described as the soundtrack to a non-existent horror movies. While the dissonance and dynamics in the songs may be functionally similar, there is one difference that is key to “getting” the Paper Chase. When your typical horror movie composer sits down to write, he writes songs made to terrify. When John Congleton sits down to write, he composes songs about being terrified.
“Now You Are One of Us”, in a broad sense, is about living a life without accomplishing anything worthwhile and, like the fevered man in the intro, letting fear dictate every action, every event in your life. If there was any single line that sums up the totality of the record, it would be the one repeated most often through out the record: “We will show this cruel world we were here.”
The Paper Chase is one band that is not made for iPod playlists. They are one of those rare musical beasts who still produce actual ALBUMS. And if you listen to these songs outside of their rightful context you’re losing something vital. Starting with their second full length, “Hide the Kitchen Knives”, and continuing with “God Bless Your Black Heart”, and “Now You Are One of Us”, their albums exist as complete works on their own, built up with repeating lyrical and melodic ideas.
This process is no simple copy and paste, either. The melody that debuts as a string quartet, returns as a soft, piano. The context is changed, and what is old is new again. One of my favorite examples of this comes on “God Bless Your Black Heart”. Early in the album, the song “One Day He Went for Milk and Never Came Back” is based on a hymn-like melodic and spat from Congleton’s pained vocal chords, wrapped in a twisting guitar riffs, stabbing strings, and thunderous drums. The first verse goes:
I laid my black heart on the table.
It may just make itself at home.
Cut short your cord length on the phone,
Your smoke alarms and barred windows.
Can’t save your house god burn your soul.
Further on in the album, the song “Abby, You’re Gonna Burn For What You’ve Done to Me” uses that same melody in a mostly instrumental context, played on piano against dissonant, angular chords. There is one bit of vocals at the end. Low and caked in a thick overdrive:
I laid my black heart on the table.
It may just make itself at home.
My tender jewel my precious pearl,
My ruby red, my diamond girl,
I’ll see your head up on a pole.
Really, the Paper Chase is the kind of band that makes what I try to do here difficult. They are dark, but not in a cliche or fake way. They are terrifying, but in a way that is entirely human. They make you uncomfortable, but they make you beg for more.