My journey into Sonic Youth was decidedly late in the day, having come to them from Nirvana circa 1994. The very first time I heard Kim Gordon was via the excellent Screaming Fields of Sonic Love, which gathers material from the band’s first six albums. A compilation that showcases the coolest fringes of Sonic Youth, it boasts tracks like G Force, from the Ciccone Youth offshoot, and Kill Yr Idols highlight Brother James, both of which cemented Kim in my mind as one of the coolest musicians on the planet.
Later, as I worked my way through the Sonic Youth catalogue, it became increasingly clear that Kim was central to the band’s experimental impulses. From the straight-up alt rock of Swimsuit Issue, through the skronky pop of Panty Lies, to the out-there experimentation of Contre Le Sexisme, Kim lay behind some of the band’s most powerful material. And, even when Kim was simply behind the mic, her voice was an awesome weapon in the band’s sonic arsenal. Whether whispering seductively (albeit with an air of menace), on G Force; or straight up raging, as on I Wanna Be Your Dog, Kim was a force of nature, and an artist who truly made it appear as if the bullshit misogyny of the music industry was poised to be overthrown.
It’s been fifteen years since Sonic Youth’s final album, 2009’s The Eternal, and Kim has not been idle. Releasing four albums under the Body/Head banner, and one as Glitterbust, it was not until 2019 that she stepped out under her own name with the exquisite No Home Record. Typically genre-spanning, it tapped into the sweeping vein of New York cool that has underpinned Kim’s work since the earliest days, drawing in elements of hardcore, no wave, and hip hop to return something completely unique. As such, it was with no small amount of excitement that I greeted the arrival of The Collective and news of its attendant tour.
The Package
Pressed on black vinyl, it’s a minimalist package Matador Records have put together. The shiny sleeve, adorned with out of focus pictures of mobile phones is otherwise shorn of detail beyond the track listing on the reverse. The vinyl itself comes in a printed liner, with performer details for each song and credits, but no lyrics, which is a shame. Otherwise, that’s it – there are no additional inserts, and no download card is included.
Side A
An eleven-track record, The Collective reunites Kim with producer Justin Raisen, and picks up where its predecessor left off, albeit with a sharper focus on the hip hop elements that lay at its core. And those elements make themselves fully visible on opening cut Bye Bye, which sees Kim listing everyday items in suitably laconic tones, intercutting the fierce digital beats with stabs of grinding guitar noise. It’s a fearless opener, both a massive departure from her signature sound and a continuation (a juxtaposition that arguably epitomises Kim’s whole career), and it sets an insanely high bar for what follows. Kim heads down an Aphex Twin vortex on The Candy House – skittering, minimalist beats and backing loops underpinning Kim’s semi-whispered vocals. Then there’s the awkward pulses of I Don’t Miss My Mind, which pairs crunchy beats with multitracked vocals and a synth scree that frays the ends of your synapses. A darkly innovative piece, it’s like Flying Lotus remixing Ciccone Youth, and it sounds amazing.
What could be a grinding guitar (although it’s unclear), lurks beneath the surface of the scathing, incel-baiting I’m A Man, which perfectly encapsulates the entitlement of toxic masculinity. The stuttering beats return on Trophies – grungy guitar droning beneath sonic gun shots, carving out a claustrophobic hole from which Kim’s voice emanates, leaving the frantic noise-fest of It’s Dark Inside to close the side amidst squally feedback and heavily distorted percussion. It’s a sublimely awkward conclusion to the first half of the record, and another example of Kim’s ability to subvert conventional forms to create something that is uniquely her own.
Side B
Kicking off the second side, the industrial textures of Psychedelic Orgasm recall the dark landscapes of Nine Inch Nails’ Year Zero, only to throw elements of Beck into the mix, with heavily processed vocals drifting through the layers of noise. The ferocious Tree House may sound like Merzbow remixing The Silver Sessions, but it’s when the album nods once more to Ciccone youth on the recently released single Shelf Warmer that we’re reminded that no one has a voice quite like Kim, who manages to make even the most abstract of lyrics feel intimate. Having been lulled into Shelf Warmer’s dreamscapes, the abstract sonic nightmare of The Believers comes as something of a shock, the industrial strength percussive blasts scraping against the senses, as Kim and Justin pile layer upon layer of guitar onto its already overloaded frame. In contrast, album closer Dream Dollar sounds like the soundtrack to an eighties action movie, the tightly wound synth sequence and scattershot guitars sounding evoking images of Kurt Russell chasing Gary Numan through a darkened tubeway. It’s a potent ending to an ever-evolving record, and one that requires several listens to fully unlock.
Final Thoughts
While the loss of Sonic Youth remains a heavy one, the various band members have all gone on to produce fascinating pieces of art in their own right. However, it is Kim who has strayed farthest from the band’s sound, albeit remaining true to its intent. On The Collective, the sketched-out hip hop and industrial elements that peppered No Home Record now emerge fully formed to take centre stage. The result is a fiercely original album that fluidly moves from explosive art-rock to splenetic industrial and back, with only Kim’s voice guiding you through such uncharted territory. A darkly imaginative body of work, The Collective is a fantastically original piece of art from one of alternative rock’s most enduring icons. 9/10
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