Sex, death and religion. Karaoke bar violence and holy relic theft. ‘Wild At Heart’ meets ‘Seven’.
Those familiar with Bambara will by now have come to expect that an album means not merely a collection of darkly alluring songs, but a narratively driven, complex and atmospherically potent cinematic trip in which each song plays out like a key scene in their own meticulously crafted film. ‘Birthmarks’, the band’s fifth album, duly fulfils this expectation, and once again delivers a macabre yet captivating world populated by (and experienced through the eyes of) idiosyncratic and flawed characters, interconnected by misfortune and grim fate. Where expectations are likely subverted lies within the album’s direction musically, which is distinct from its ‘prequels’ in its ambitiously eclectic and overall more contemporary styling, undeniably setting it apart.
Violence and obsession burn at the album’s core, with sin weaving serpentine through each vignette that plays out as religious mania increasingly constricts the protagonists. The opening and closing tracks ‘Hiss’ and ‘Loretta’ are marked by death, which feels like no coincidence in an album possessed by a sense of cyclicality, inevitability and fatalism. The events are viewed primarily from the perspective of an aging killer with a God complex and an undying infatuation, and so the fever dream-like feel of ‘Birthmarks’ leads you unsteadily between fantasy and reality as the line between the two corrodes.
‘Hiss’ sets the tone and sense of place from the beginning as an ill-fated motel room tryst is recalled through the haze of years passed, and like you may expect from a Lynchian neo noir, events transpiring in seedy dive bars and smoke-stained rooms unfold obliquely and achronologically; you will find yourself replaying it over, searching for hidden meaning and connecting the dots like a detective in way over your head- a testament to the compelling lyrical labyrinth constructed by frontman Reid Bateh. With the depth and layered complexity of it all, it’s unsurprising that by his own account per the album press release, the writing process was a gruelling one, spanning a five-month period of “pretty much total isolation” and that it was “fucking with [his] head”. When writing from the viewpoint of an unhinged man losing grasp of reality, it feels like the songwriter’s equivalent of involuntary method acting.
The record is arguably Bambara’s most versatile and dynamic to date from every angle you inspect it, striking a balance of intensity, tempo, and the sense of light and dark rendered through the lyrics, range of vocals, and diverse instrumentation- all the while defying you to brand it with any one genre. Alongside instrumental contributions by several guest musicians, supporting vocals from no less than five women imbue the album with new tones that complement and counterbalance Reid’s sonorous croon and snarl, a dynamic that has resulted in some of Bambara’s most frisson-inducing moments across their catalogue.
Singles ‘Letters From Sing Sing’ and ‘Pray To Me’ ignite with Bambara’s signature fiery attitude and guitar-laden volatility (doubtlessly primed to set stages alight), whilst on the other end of the scale, ‘Elena’s Dream’ and ‘Because You Asked’ slow the pace and mood to the melancholically meditative and funereal with mournful saxophone and plaintive keys. Somewhere in between, ‘Face Of Love’ strikes the impression of a series of flashbacks, heavy with a sense of desire and bittersweet longing as the montage is delivered with a trip-hop cadence and beat (a leftfield stylistic choice that pays off strangely well).
‘Birthmarks’, like the jewel-encrusted skull of a martyred saint, glitters with moments that pierce the overall darkness. The harp-adorned, pulsing opening sequence of ‘Pray To Me’ sounds and feels like a racing heartbeat whilst falling in slow motion through some heavenly hallucination, whilst the elegiac ‘Because You Asked’ glistens and twinkles like a thousand candles viewed through tear-filled eyes as choral vocals ring out. ‘Holy Bones’ and ‘Dive Shrine’ are sonically and lyrically unsettling portraits of the deranged protagonist’s unravelling psyche and grandiose conspiring. The former smoulders with venomous malice that conjures the image of a prowling predator as synth rumbles beneath an insistent beat, the latter is a chaotic wall-of-noise assault haunted by woozy sonic apparitions, as if you’re experiencing the barrage of dark, intrusive thoughts of its subject.
Bambara have long traded in Lynchian nightmares in the stories told and the sounds and atmospheres conjured, but possibly never more directly than the penultimate song of the album, ‘Smoke’- though perhaps it’s more fittingly characterised as an intoxicating dream that steadily darkens, threatening to dissipate entirely and give way to a waking horror. The song plays like a darker, whiskey-soaked ode to the iconic ‘Wicked Game’ (Chris Isaak) and is every part as seductive, with its languid reverbed guitar, underpinned by Bad Seeds-esque organ. The swaying instrumentals combined with Reid’s yearning vocals evokes a slow dance at sundown, soundtracked by a haunted jukebox in some desolate, middle-of-nowhere 50s diner as the last light dies. In the wake of the recent passing of David Lynch, it almost feels prescient, like the track has become an inadvertent tribute, and speaks to the timelessness of his work and its influence.
The final track, ‘Loretta’, calls back to events of the opener, propelling forwards with a manic fervour, lulling momentarily, before barrelling relentlessly onwards to its morbid conclusion, as if fate itself is bearing down on the title character. The song ends the way it begins, with a eulogy. God’s voice is heard by Loretta, though the Devil is very much in the details.
‘Birthmarks’ is an album of many facets, at one moment an electrically euphoric death wish, the next a tragically tender and regret-filled reflection; it demands repeat listening, over which it gradually uncoils and unveils itself a little more each time. Nuances shine through, themes and motifs emerge, and the tragedies you now know are coming only intensify in their inescapability… just like rewatching your favourite (dis)comfort film.
‘Birthmarks’ will glow in the mind long after the credits fade.
Bambara: Birthmarks – Out 14 March 2025 (Bella Union)
– Letters From Sing Sing (Official Music Video)
