Emerging like a missile from some surreptitious silo in southwestern Ohio, The Serfs are a deliberately nebulous and incidentally industrialist gang of dance-floor hymners– perturbed and tranced-out troubadours whose sound and musical ideology seems to be a causal manifestation of their immediate environments–hard-wired and hypnotic synthesized melodies propel alongside churning and scraping percussion of every metallic tonality–with temperamental and eremitic words and voices dictating the forlorn venture. Like their Ohio predecessors, The Serfs seem askew from the art that surrounds them, and proud of it.
A surprisingly energetic, robust performance after the lo-fi, synth-driven dirges on Sounds of Serfdom. This is hi-fi in comparison, featuring a layered sound with a more muscular, live band feeling. Guitars are all over the place in the mix, as well as solid percussion and fluid baselines.
This lp is a major step forward for the band, combining the dark murk of their earlier work with a catchy but severe punchiness.
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