Bambara‘s brooding latest album “Birthmarks” is out on Bella Union It’s a thrilling, fever dream of a record with Reid, Blaze and William really upping the ante so buckle up for this one and listen loud
Since we last heard from cinematic Brooklyn post-punks Bambara (2022’s “Love on My Mind” mini-LP), they signed to Simon Raymonde’s Bella Union label in the UK and, most significantly, have undergone a noticeable sonic overhaul. The bones are still the same — smouldering, high-drama rock that owes a lot to Johnny Cash, Nick Cave and Ennio Morricone, with Blaze Bateh’s thunderous drumming powering things and brother Reid Bateh’s smokey swagger in the spotlight — but this time it’s delivered with sleek synthesizers and layers of atmospheric sound design. The album was produced by Graham Sutton of British post-rock greats Bark Psychosis and he feels like a fourth member of the band alongside founding bassist William Brookshire.
Would they have put the ’80s-style orchestra hit samples on ripper “Letters to Sing Sing” without him? Maybe, but it feels new and exciting in this context, a fist pumping moment that is both a little humorous and exactly right. Then there’s “Face of Love,” the album’s best and most surprising song, that is part Cocteau Twins and part Massive Attack, with cascades of ethereal guitar wash, crashing slow funk drums, proggy keyboard arpeggiations, heavenly guest vocals from Madeline Johnston (Midwife) and Emma Acs (Crack Cloud), and Reid in growling sprechgesang mode that leans toward rapping.
Despite those two band reference points in the last overlong sentence, “Face of Love” does not sound like “Teardrop,” but it is pure Bambara. Whoever is responsible for this sonic renovation, huzzah, because “Birthmarks” sounds like a million bucks in all the right ways and the band’s essential Bambara-ness never gets lost in the gloss.
Fusing goth, post-punk, and Morricone with a spine-shattering sneer, “Birthmarks” showcases Bambara at the height of their powers. Their fifth album overflows with thick layers of hooks even as dense clouds of synth haze swirl around the mix. It’s equal parts moody malice, gloomy grit, and somber storytelling—but instead of being a dour downer, standout songs like “Hiss,” “Letters from Sing Sing,” “Face of Love,” and “Dive Shrine” burst at the seams with barely controlled fury. Driven by snarling guitars, brash drumming, and Reid Bateh’s brooding baritone, this album absolutely rips.
The Fat Angel Sings 