Brainsqueezed’s Humanity Shines on I Am Not A Robot
The most remarkable thing about the latest album from Brainsqueezed, I Am Not a Robot, has easily got to be the arrangements. They’re extremely varied, extensive, and sprawling, oftentimes taking several minutes to reach full capacity and burst into the tunes these songs are meant to be.
Within this motif, there are a couple of recurring devices that help to achieve this effect. Rarely, for example, does any one of these 11 tracks begin with drums. In fact, such an assertion is an understatement. When the drums do come in on a number such as “Run”, for instance, it’s often times just a teaser—a single kick, a flicker of percussion, and still several seconds away from the true unveiling of the energy accompanying these cuts.
In terms of pure creativity, you’ve got to give it up to Sebastien Laloue (who’s credited with writing and producing the tracks and, conceivably, assembling a cast of at least seven singers and musicians on this outing) for finding a way to turn all of these pieces into electric guitar infused rock and roll. Doesn’t matter if they start out slow or fast, church organ-tinged (as is the case with “Giving Up the Fight”) or steeped in deep algorithmic forms of electronica. The brainchild behind this collection assuredly works in those guitars, oftentimes accentuated by an acceleration of the drums, to quite possibly expand the realms in which rock has progressed within a single album.
Along the way, he’s able to create some truly timeless moments. There are few tunes as well composed as the ode to Native Son Richard Wright entitled “Dawn (Song for Richard Wright)”. Granted, it begins with reserved piano chords, but is soon enjoined by the most animated of acoustic guitars to create an aural stirring worth waiting for. Its ardor is unabashed, as is the case on most of these tracks, no matter what direction Sebastien is going.
“It Tears Me Apart” proves this point handily. It starts out cool, with bouncy synths and the bass to match, but it isn’t long before the male vocalist gets to screaming, transforming a fun narrative into something much more. In this respect it’s emblematic of most of the work found on I Am Not a Robot, which certainly goes to the extreme to demonstrate this fact.