Hellfire: Black Midi’s theatrical take on experimental jazz rock.
Dissecting the elements that make the UK trio’s 3rd LP so unique.
Picture yourself on a summer day under the oppressive Texas sun. The heat is so bad after a few seconds that you’re already huffing and puffing. The only refuge from this arid wasteland is your friend’s car. While piling in, still dizzy from the sun, he cues up an album filled with slide guitar, murder, deals with the devil, heartbreak, and an unfathomable level of musical talent—otherwise known as Hellfire, the latest LP release by UK post-punk, jazz fusion, noise rock group Black Midi, composed of lead guitarist and vocalist Geordie Greep, drummer Morgan Simpson, and keyboard bassist and sub-vocalist Cameron Picton.
The album’s eponymous first track, “Hellfire,” kicks off with Simpson laying down a regimental drumbeat while the piano and horns blare off in dissonant stabs like a metronome. Greep’s vocals then enter and, with his best impression of Rod Serling in The Twilight Zone, welcome us to the album. He recounts bizarre aphorisms and paradoxes over strings, rising and falling like the waves of a tempestuous sea, before coolly beckoning us to “come in”—and, in response to his alluring charisma, we obey. Within this first track the band has already demonstrated Greep’s magnetism on the mic, Simpson’s awe-inspiring drumming skills, and the patchwork of horns, strings and noises the album mixes and matches across its tracks. It’s a blazing start.
Then, “Sugar/Tzu” exemplifies the group’s ability to craft bizarre storylines in their music. It all begins with ding of a wrestling bell and an announcer hyping us up to see the “sporting event of the year” between two fighters named “Sun Sugar” and “Sun Tzu.” Greep tells us that during a break in the fighting he shook Sun Sugar’s hand and, when the fighter turned away, Greep shot him to death. It ends with Greep being caught and sentenced to life while a cacophony of horns, guitar, and drums reminiscent of a 10-car-pileup usher us out. It’s kind of wild.
Cameron Picton steps up to the vocal plate on “Eat Men Eat.” In contrast to Greep’s authoritative yet cold voice, Picton has a lighter, deeply haunting, and soothing tone. The breezier atmosphere of this song is carried through with acoustic guitars, lighter strings, and softer percussion. Halfway through, the instruments start building up tension. Picton follows along, accenting the same syllables as the strings. His delivery in the finale evokes the wails of the loudest banshee, shocking us out of the languid serenity the song had attracted us with.
Greep returns in “Welcome to Hell,” which opens with Simpson’s amazingly groovy drums and guitars that subtly hypnotize us to move with the song. Greep, crooning over the changes, sets the scene of a naval crew docked in a town allowed free range for one night. Their captain encourages them to “experience the red rooms, the green tables” and make “memories haunting or fabled.” As this story unfolds, Simpson’s drums and Greep’s guitar lock in with each other, filling the space the other leaves empty, like soldiers providing covering fire for each other. The guitar leads ahead, and with each change in its rhythm the pace of the song likewise alters. By the end, Greep’s guitar starts chugging harder than a marathon runner who just crossed the finish line; Simpson’s drums—not to be outdone—follow along, crashing and banging their way right behind. This track is the standout of the first half, and each time I listen to it, I find a guitar line I have never heard before or discover a new fill in the drums. Greep’s vocal work is exceptional, with rich lyrics and descriptions so vivid you would assume he had fought in the trenches of World War I.
The last track on the first half, “Still,” enters with a pedal steel guitar spitting out whirling chords that tug at our heart strings. The acoustic elements of “Eat Men Eat” return, serving as our last breather before the second half of the album cuts the brake lines and goes full speed. Picton, once more, is our vocal guide to this ballad. He laments a relationship whose twilight has long since passed, unable to move on, pleading that if he “ever needed love it’s now.” After these lines, the vocals drop out, leaving the instruments to perform a Latin-inspired breakdown, like an audience egging on a lone dancer in the center of the room. The instruments then retreat, leaving only two acoustic guitars eerily calling out to each other. Eventually even these drop out and just the ambient noise of birds and an uncanny metallic resonating is left.
At the start of the second half, we are given a brief interlude as a radio DJ tells us to keep listening, as the next track is “a song like no other.” The DJ was not lying—“The Race Is About to Begin” is absolutely incredible. There are so many fascinating intricacies between the instruments and different sections to this song that it feels as if we are at a hibachi grill and all we can do is stare in awe while the band expertly juggles all the ingredients. Beginning with an infectiously catchy three-note riff, the bass and drums follow with insanely quick descending licks. Greep’s voice commands the song like the announcer at the Kentucky Derby. Then, all hell breaks loose—out of nowhere, Greep starts spitting words faster than a pharmaceutical commercial listing the hazardous side effects, with lyrics lifted from the diary of a paranoid schizophrenic conspiracy theorist. Despite running the equivalent of a verbal obstacle course, Geep demonstrates not a single ounce of hesitation or difficulty in this task, the drums even less so, staying completely locked in, rolling more than a victim caught on fire. My only gripe with this track is the final section. “Still” already had a really powerful ambient ending, and we did not need another one in this album, especially on a song that is such a ball of chaotic energy.
Next, “Dangerous Liaisons” brings back the vivid storytelling of track two. It eases its way in with a guitar repeating a shady riff, a demonic figure laughing, and a rusty metal door careening closed. Greep stains the vocals by recounting his transgression. His low tones and chilling lyrics hook us in. We hear how Greep was offered a sum of money by the devil to kill an innocent man. This whole time a shifty piano eggs him on, pushing the song forward. When he describes the deed the horns blare and screech, implicit in the crime. By the time Greep realizes who his employer was, he is dragged down to hell. The dissonant piano and horns signify his fall.
“The Defense” calls back the steel guitar from “Still” for its opening, laying a melancholic intro for the other instruments to jump off from. Going into the first chorus, beautifully arranged strings, and horns welcome us, and halfway through they play a gorgeous touching movement. Greep’s voice rings out, calling into the night for anyone who will listen. The second verse introduces an accordion that complements Greep’s vocal melody. At the bridge the strings swell once more and shivering, like they’ve just come in from the cold, lead us back into the chorus—as magnificent as the first—before the song ends with Greep and the strings pleading with us to follow them.
The final track, “27 Questions,” calls back to the theme of the first track, coming in with heavy notes that sound like the footsteps of a slow yet unrelenting entity following us throughout the song. Greep guides us through city streets to a memorial of a celebrity, Freddie Frost. The accordion and piano play off disorienting beats while Simpson lays out drum grooves that just barely fit into the time signature. The first part to this track leaves a lot to be desired, to be frank. It does not match the drug-like highs of “The Race Is About to Begin” or the emotional orchestration of “The Defense”; however, as soon as Freddie Frost begins to sing, he takes the track from a skip to a highlight. The whole song alters into a show tune that has been sent through all the languages on Google Translate and back. It is a style fusion that almost should not work, but Black Midi melds genres like a baby plays with its food. Greep lays out the 27 questions, asking sensible ones like “is it only black you see when you join the deceased?”and mixing in truly inexplicable ones: “Do nuns fornicate and do scientists pray?” Eventually, unable to finish all 27, he runs out of energy, blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, and floats away, leaving us with the heavy notes to close out the album.
edited by Joyce Zhang.
album artwork believed to belong to either the publisher of the work or the artist.
