Album Review: Stinking Lizaveta, Anthems and Phantoms
Recorded in 2020, Anthems and Phantoms is the ninth full-length from Philadelphia committed instrumentalists and doomjazz innovators Stinking Lizaveta. The three-piece of guitarist Yanni Papadopoulos, upright electric bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta were last heard from with 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here), and the new album — produced at Permanent Hearing Damage in South Philly by Steve Roche and issued via SRA Records — will carry them past the 30th anniversary of their inception in 2024. If you’ve been fortunate enough to see them in the post-pandemic era — they’ve been at Desertfest NYC (review here), Psycho Las Vegas (review here), and are about to support Telekinetic Yeti on a summer tour of the Western portion of the country — then you’ve already basked in the joy and passion that radiates from Stinking Lizaveta onstage. They shred, they dizzy, they head-down-speed-riff-into-open-groove, all hairpin turns and the underlying technical prowess to pull it off, but they’re not a ‘tech’ band at all.
In tone, the nine songs and 34 minutes of Anthems and Phantoms are organic and warm and fluid enough to make even side B opener “Serpent Underfoot” feel inviting with its initial bursts of crash and howling guitar. Alexi‘s bass work, as ever, is a not-hidden treasure of the low end, even as “Serpent Underfoot” layers a guitar solo over the post-midpoint of the track, which by the way is under three minutes long; the shortest on the record by three seconds at 2:45, as opposed to the earlier “Let Live” at 2:48. But there and in the succession of three four-plus-minute cuts that follow — the sneaker-riff “Blue Skunk” (4:40), the mellow-psych bass-highlight exploration screaming into its payoff “The Heart” (4:56) and closer “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt” (4:37), which follows suit on the quiet start but makes its ending more wistful with a slower (but for the shred), bluesy spirit — Stinking Lizaveta underscore the love-yes-love in what they do live across these studio pieces. I don’t know and won’t speculate on the recording process, though if you told me basic tracks were live, I’d believe it. But there’s layering as well, so at least some manner of overdubbing happened, and not at all to the detriment either of the material generally or the energy with which it hits the listener. It is a complement to the live experience rather than a recreation, and as a studio outing it works toward its own ends, whether that’s the relative stretchout in the album’s back half after the crunchfest of side A or the beyond-dug-in nature of the songs across the whole.
I’m a fan of this band and I won’t pretend otherwise, but while metal and prog have entire leagues of bands whose focus is solely on look-what-we-can-do-style fret runs and odd time-signatures, etc., heavy rock and roll has Stinking Lizaveta. In the fading-in feedback and subsequent siren-call lead twists of opener “Electric Future,” the constant smoothing-out and brash throwing of sonic elbows — and a bit of Iron Maiden in the ‘verse’ — of “Shock,” and the way “Let Live” seems to roll into its stops as a preface to the midtempo fluidity of “Nomen est Omen” with its nod and ascending movement through the finish, Anthems and Phantoms may be anthems up front, phantoms in the back in terms of the A/B LP divide, or it may just be what came out of the studio that particular day three years ago, but no matter where they go, it is unquestionably Stinking Lizaveta‘s own.
They are singular, and unique, which is not a word I often use. With the careening guitar, snare-shred and the depth, bounce and heft provided by the bass, “Daily Madness” is only a fitting centerpiece, drawing a line under the fact that Stinking Lizaveta don’t need anything other than themselves. Yeah, there’s another layer of lead guitar (probably not keyboard) tucked into the ending of the song, a little extra twist thrown in for good measure, but even so, Anthems and Phantoms is pure Stinking Lizaveta front to back, and it doesn’t need to be a departure because the band themselves are the departure.
For someone taking them on for the first time — and six years after their last record, that’s entirely possible — Anthems and Phantoms might come across as head-spinning in a way that’s hard to keep up with, but that’s the idea. The righteousness of Stinking Lizaveta stems from the execution of their own approach on their own terms, and from the fact that they so clearly love what they do. Started off with guitar, “Nomen est Omen” is both raw and high-class, elaborate in style and barebones in arrangement, sprawling and unpretentious. And the same is true as “Blue Skunk” Hendrixes toward its finish, serving as a transition to the aforementioned closing pair of “The Heart” and “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt,” and everywhere else. As comparatively gentle as the ending of the album is compared to “Electric Future” and “Let Live” — triumphant and memorable as they are in leading off the record, and very much intended to be as frenetic as they might feel — it is only through engaging with both that the full scope of Anthems and Phantoms can be internalized. Dense as some of the parts are, don’t be surprised if that takes a few listens.
And don’t be surprised if some never get there. I’m not gatekeeping or talking down to anyone or any of that on-the-internet garbage, but I have to imagine even Stinking Lizaveta would admit their music isn’t composed or played for universal accessibility. They are so much on their own wavelength that it’s inevitable, but much to their credit, the sounds across Anthems and Phantoms — fast, slow(ish), manic, soothing, up, down, left, right, A, B, select, start — are an invitation more than a line in the sand. Stinking Lizaveta are ready to bring their audience with them on this relatively brief outing, just as they do live. If they were gospel, this would be their ‘joyful noise,’ and what they’re worshiping is creativity itself. Open mind, open ears, gird loins, dive in. Whether you’re a longtime fan or you’ve never heard them before, Anthems and Phantoms manifests so much of what has made Stinking Lizaveta so special for so long. It is life-affirming in the truest sense of defining its own purpose.
