Uniform - American Standard [Colored Vinyl]

American Standard begins with a shock. Vocalist Michael Berdan stands alone,screaming, "A part of me, but it can't be me. Oh God, it can't." It all starts with anadmission. Beneath the harrowing screams, there's the pain of bulimia nervosa.There's the pain of a sickness that is as physical as it is psychological. This is a kind ofemergence. With every movement of American Standard, Uniform peels off a new layer and tellsthe story inside of the one that came before it. The lyrics sink down into the core ofthe innermost self, the small human being crushed in the grip of sickness. To helppeel away this narrative of eating disorders, self-hatred, delusion, mania, and ultimatediscovery, Berdan sought assistance from a towering pair of outsider literary figures.Alongside B.R. Yeager (author of the modern cult-classic Negative Space) and MaggieSiebert (the mind behind the contemporary body horror masterpiece Bonding), thethree writers eviscerate the personal material to present a portrait of mental andphysical illness as vividly terrifying as anything in the present-day canon. The result isan acute articulation of a state beyond simple agony, capturing the thrilling transcendence and deliverance that sickness can bring in the process.American Standard is surely Uniform's most thematically accomplished and musicallyself assured album to date. Sections spiral and explode. Motifs drift off into obscuritybefore reasserting themselves with new power. Genres collide and burst open, forming something idiosyncratic and new. There's a grandeur, due in part to the additionof Interpol bassist Brad Truax alongside the percussive push and pull of returningdrummer Michael Sharp and longtime touring drummer Michael Bloom, markinghis Uniform recorded debut here. However, this magnificence is most clearly attributable to the scale and power of guitarist and founder Ben Greenberg's arrangements,matching ever elegantly to the intense lyrical subject matter.Without a shred of doubt, American Standard is a work of art, agonizing in it's honestyand relentless in it's pursuit of sonic transcendence. It is hideous. It is beautiful. It isnecessary