Kelly Kirwan
Your first impression of Railings could be fleeting. Rich, jazzy notes will roll languidly from the speakers, and you’ll think you have them pegged; they’re a throwback genre, a bit of brass and a dash of rock n’ roll equals a group of hipsters guided by the mantra, what’s old is new again. But you would be wrong. For a band that’s named themselves Railings they’re not much interested in the guiding lines of genre, and because of this they’ve sidestepped the pitfalls of consistency (feeling contrived, and ipso facto boring). They’ve taken older influences and funneled them through a medium that’s perhaps best described as avant-garde. It’s as if Railings held up mirrors to idiosyncratic moments in music history and then beamed a composite of those reflections lightyears into the future as a base for the new human-robot race to play with. But luckily, for all their experimental sway, this Queens-based band actually exists in the here-and-now, with the recently released album for us to dive into: ) (.
Alex Ian Smith tackles bass and guitar while also lending his vocals to the album’s ten tracks. In his softer moments, his pitch ever-so-slightly resembles the nasally intonations of Mick Jagger (think his reflective whispers in Angie). But Smith is his own man, and quickly takes this pitch and brings it to a punk-inspired precipice. His notes take on a serrated edge with his far-flung stretches, particularly in the song, Hell is Real, which is garnished with a spacey synth that feels inspired by a misty sci-fi film scene (courtesy of Ari Zeiguer) “Because when you feel it/You know you need it” Smith sings, emphasizing his words with a ragged earnestness, that just as quickly boomerangs back into a delicate croon.
Then there’s the slyly titled, Blinded by the Blight, which opens with a skittering lower layer; like the garble of a radio wave gone haywire, or the near loom of a helicopter. The song shows off the prowess of drummer Julian Fader (of Ava Luna), in what feels like an uninhibited percussive streak. He takes the song–if only in spurts–into sweaty, closing in on mosh-pit territory. Other highlights include, Raeliens, which absolutely drips with 80s synth. A touch of grit is of course served by Smith’s sandpaper shriek, but still, this song has the kind of bop that will spontaneously curl your hair into a flock of seagulls’ style by the end of it’s (roughly) three-minute span. And these three songs are just a slice of what ) ( has in store.
But, if there is a single message that can be taken from this review, it’s this: Railings are unique. Genre-shredding, inverted parenthesis unique. They’re the sonic equivalent to Being John Malkovich, starkly different personalities letting loose in a single vessel. And hat’s off to them for that.