According to the dictionary, the definition of geometry encompasses the measurement, properties, and relationships of points, lines, angles, surfaces or an arrangement of objects. For The Clientele’s new album, Strange Geometry, all of these things translate into broader metaphors on life and love. The Clientele formed in 1997 in London and began releasing EP’s, which included 2000’s Suburban Light comparative to Galaxie 500’s hazy reverberations. In 2003, they released their first full-length, The Violet Hour, which introduced a more evolved sound of 60’s inspired pop song. Lead singer Alasdair MacClean’s soothing vocals contribute to the Clientele’s nuances of dense atmospheres, narratives and reflections. Themes of light contrasting dark, evening falling, sunlight, trees, tenement lines, faces in crowds, specific time and seasons run rampant throughout both records, but Strange Geometry is more structured and mature.
MacClean paints lyrical portraits of places with strong visual descriptions and details and at times it’s like listening to prose. Strange Geometry’s strongest track, “My Own Face in the Trees” speaks about literal and figurative darkness. accompanied with a jangly and infectious guitar/organ fusion. The song is mainly upbeat until the bridge when it slows down to a pensive mood: “So I left myself back in the night/moving into clearer light/neither here nor really gone/both surrounded and alone.” Palpable senses of loneliness and nostalgia are omnipresent, but the record is really about leaving things and broken relationships behind to find a better life. More rock elements are involved here than in The Violet Hour as in “E.M.P.T.Y” and “Impossible,” when the songs tangent into a few seconds of guitar rock instrumental bliss.
What exactly is strange geometry remains uncertain, but the Clientele has developed their music into a deftly structured album with relatable topics on love, growing up and growing apart, along with imagery of incandescent cities and tree lined streets. Rarely does a record come along so layered with rich lyrics and melodies, and despite motifs of death and life fading away, the songs never succumb to melancholy. Strange Geometry isn’t just a collection of 60s pop songs–it’s an album comprised of honest emotions and one to ruminate on while the night dissolves into morning.
