GutterPutter

For a start, Model/Actriz is a New York-based dance punk band whose style carries onward the post-industrial thrills of electronic body music. They consist of Cole Haden, lead vocalist and lyricist; Ruben Radlauer and Jack Wetmore, the first two members who respectively play drum and guitar; and Aaron Shapiro, the bassist who joined in 2019 after the initial two-year hiatus declared by Haden himself. Emblazoning their abrasive direction are the themes of anxiety and self-doubt that emanates from being homosexual even while picking up or being a part of the community. Haden notes in an interview with Spin’s Ian Cohen about how he’s gay while performing in a genre that’s not known for exploring same-sex orientation – and the surprising success he and others have garnered from it.

2023 saw the release of their anticipated debut in Dogsbody to which I have summarily enjoyed. Yet, I have also felt that its unique grooviness pale in comparison with its slower, more introspective deep cuts that leans toward the melancholic slowcore of ‘Hurt’ from Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral in 1994. Over the course of two years, it appears that Model/Actriz have no interest in diverting from what they’ve started however. After touring around to promote their album, they find their frequent listens to techno and house music drive their songwriting. They sought to build on their rhythm to make it tighter, its bass boosts more all-devouring, its riffs more mechanical. Two years is how long the wait lasted for and now, on the 2nd of May, Pirouette is the final result of the band’s ordeal.

Pirouette improves on the dance punk aspects of Dogsbody by a wide margin all the while keeping intact its standout slow burners. It is thanks to the aforementioned techno influence that the music comes off as being more “composed” so to say. The abrasiveness no longer sticks out like an edgy scar from some naive fandom OC nor does the feedback errs into tinnitus-inducing drowsiness. What it succeeds in doing is make itself be straight out of some underground cyberpunk speakeasy. An absolute banger out of its industrial ills so to say. It is even in its shorter tracks, ‘Ring Road’ and ‘Audience’, that quakes and thuds with its distortion and bass boosts, blurring the line between dissociation and lust.

The intro in ‘Vespers’ sees its riff be repetitive, but it’s done in a fast-paced manner that is more like an assembly line on the verge of breaking down. This compliments Haden’s lyrical focus on asking for divine forgiveness over his transgression – one that might be linked to being gay. ‘Poppy’ has its guitar feedback synergise with the mechanical hi-hats for a paradoxically claustrophobic piece. However, it continues to be oppressive in its progression which demands you to face it. On the dancefloor for clarity. ‘Departures’ sees its guitarwork be based around its dissonances in brief, yet abrupt strands that intensify the dysphoric feeling of exposure. In many of the songs, you always have the impression that sexual orientation is a blockade that prevents any kind of personal progress. Yet, its immutability leaves only the persistence of anxiousness even within the most accepting or open community.

Additionally, many of the album goes further in its songwriting aspect to make for a more riveting experience. Its three singles especially help to accentuate much of Model/Actriz’s development in the ways that they structure their songs and play around their chorus. ‘Diva’ takes on a sexually active gay man’s journeys which involve closeted lovers; the chorus’s semantic field of migration highlighting the fleeting bits of intimacy between each encounter. ‘Doves’ is more minimalistic when it comes to the overlaps between each instrumental which adds to the ecstasy of the song itself (be it holistic or innuendo-driven). In particular, the star standout in ‘Cinderella’ stretches its own chorus out to accentuate the complicated feelings of both acceptance and paranoia: “I feel different now than I did before / I can see how my power / Only was my fear of betrayal”. It’s lengthy, but catchy in its devastation over the constraints of being in the closet even as a child when it comes to wishing a “Cinderella birthday party”.

Of course, the slower cuts that have made my experience of listening to Dogsbody enjoyable have carried on to Pirouette to carry on its heavy introspection. ‘Headlights’ serves more as an interlude that thrives in its ambient drones as it tackles a form of love triangle between Haden, his female best friend, and “another friend of hers” (implied to be her boyfriend) that he had a crush on. This kind of unrequited feelings segue into ‘Acid Rain’ which is a slowcore piece that depends on its downtempo, twinkly guitar melody and a longing heartbeat of a bassline to portray an ideal relationship. One that, due to the ringing dissonances that fill in the spaces of the song, is merely a fantasy that only serves to add to the stress. 

The last track in ‘Baton’ sought to distance itself away from the abrasion in favour of dramatic, elongated marcato notes before the bitter nostalgia to the sister – or is that actually the same friend from ‘Headlights’? The lack of sexual innuendos/inferences in favour of impressionistic memories suggest a tragic ending where the feeling of loneliness was now beyond fixing due to the bottled fears regarding being gay. Its more psychedelic textures surrounding the percussion’s fainted playing that slowly grows further portrays the end that seemingly dawns to Haden. It is this deliberate kind of vagueness that showcases the tragedy of being a closeted individual and it’s in this that serves as an ideal kind of epilogue for Pirouette.

The album is among the best of this year in my opinion as while the more downtempo songs continually carries on from its success in Dogsbody, the intended dance punk cuts have improved beyond my expectations. Haden’s flamboyant subtlety in his singing compliments much of Model/Actriz’s performance and the instrumentals as a whole no longer teeters on being as noisy as possible. This kind of direction would at worst fall into the mind-numbing shrill that I personally find Melt-Banana’s 3+5 to be like. Instead, each dissonance is more calculated, each feedback more suspenseful, each distortion more venomous. While the lyricism as a whole might admittedly fall a few inches short of the wit from ‘Cinderella’, it doesn’t otherwise bother the album’s excellence. Fans of post-industrial music as a whole, be it from Xiu Xiu or Death Grips, should pay Pirouette a damn good listen.

4.8/5