SWANS ‘The Beggar’ Review: Michael Gira and collaborators return with stirring collection of songs composed during the pandemic.
The pandemic affected every working musician. Economically, all artists suffered, and some musicians felt too unsettled to find creative inspiration. For SWANS frontman and founding member Michael Gira, the opposite was true: this was a time to hunker down, avoid doom-scrolling, and get laser focused on making new music.
Now he has he emerged with The Beggar (June 23, Young God Records/Mute) SWANS’ first release since 2019’s Leaving Meaning, and like past efforts, he has delivered another sprawling, double-album epic, ready to be consumed by his legion of fans and the musically adventurous.
Click here for my new interview with Michael Gira
SWANS has always had a revolving lineup and The Beggar features a mix of collaborators from previous releases as well as from Gira’s Angels of Light project, including multi instrumentalists Larry Mullins, Kristof Hahn, Dana Schechter, Christopher Pravdica nd Phil Puleo, all of whom add layers of sonic intrigue to the album’s musical tapestry.
It opens with The Parasite, which sets the mood of the album effectively, with gentle string thrums, slight reverb and Gira’s serrated vocals front and center, his discomfiting lyrics questioning the cycle between consumption and being consumed: Am I broken into pieces to be scattered in the wind? When the revelation comes, does it erase the host that lives, in the body of a sun, that itself exists within, an ever-shrinking sphere, that is contracting as we spin? I wonder how we got here. I wonder if I care. I wonder if your breathing is stealing all the air.
First single Paradise Is Mine is classic SWANS, centered around a repeating, tense guitar riff and background textures, coalescing with Gira’s vocals, all of which results in a musical hypnotic state. It never reaches a climactic boiling point like past, similar works, but the sinister yet soothing spell it casts is most effective.
Los Angeles City of Death continues a thread that first emerged with Hollywood Lifestyle from 1995’s The Great Annihilator, with Gira and co. exploring the inherent decadence of L.A. amidst psychedelic sonics, ghostly backing vocals and ever-escalating tension. It’s the most infectious and economical track on the album, while still capturing that seasick, uneasy, verging on nausea vibe the band does so well.
Michael Is Done is the most calming and uplifting song on the release, and one that suggests a third person narrative. Its also one I asked Gira about in a recent interview, to which he answered “The song Michael is Done was originally titled Julie is Done and it didn’t make sense to me until I replaced the word Julie with Michael. To me, it is a series of mental knots, the place where language unravels, or the place where it’s impossible to tell the difference between what’s true and what isn’t, and the harder you concentrate the more thought itself dissolves.”
The musical composition is appropriately knotty, an ever undulating umbilical cord offering psychic nourishment through a narcotic haze. It’s also the rare SWANS song to use major chords. Unforming continues in a similar direction, as does the lovely country ballad No More Of This.
The title track returns to darker sonic territory, anchored by Gira’s words of internal angst and self-loathing (I am the shithead unforgiven, now crawling up your inner leg. I am an insect in your bedclothes, searching for a place to beg. Now every word’s a new beginning, when there’s nothing left to give. What if I steal the child inside you? Will I remember how to live?), before breaking through the musical clouds in hope for love and transcendence: Before I go there sing a prayer, into my palms beneath your chin. I am the slaughter at your alter. That’s where my will to live begins. That’s where my need for you begins. That’s where my love for you begins. My love for you will never end.
Over ten-minutes long, it’s a masterclass in restrained tension, and an example of what SWANS do best, while the wonderfully titled Why Can’t I Have What I Want Any Time That I Want expresses a palpable need for an emotional and spiritual infusion as a delivery from addiction and our 21st century need for instant gratification.
While Disc 2 technically comprises one song, (The Memorious), another track, The Beggar Lover (Three) is included as a digital download. It’s a near-45 minute fever dream featuring the band at their most orchestral and abstract: a sonic collage of disembodied female vocals, string flutters, electronic tonalities and foreboding drone. It’s a perfect distillation of controlled chaos, ending in jazzy, celestial flourishes.
The Memorious is a stunning finale, featuring unsettling pitch-shifted childlike screams that draws comparisons to To Be Kind’s Just A Little Boy (For Chester Burnett), riding a mountainous riff and stomping percussion, anchored by Gira’s authoritative monologue.
Now that we’ve emerged into a post-Covid world, one can only wonder where Gira and his cohorts will venture next, but The Beggar shows that SWANS have more than enough fire in their belly and intestinal fortitude to continue their musical evolution, no matter any potential future catastrophic event heads their (and our) way.
For a band that often sounds like Armageddon, their survival, and ability to thrive, during difficult times is inspiring, therapeutic and very much needed. For both artist and audience, it’s an interconnected knot that only grows more resilient over time.
