Over the years there have been landmark albums that are so heartbreaking, they can at times be painful to listen to. Perfect examples are ‘Closer’ by Joy Division, Nick Cave’s ‘The Boatman’s Call’, and more recently, ‘Abyss’ from Chelsea Wolfe. The pain they evoke is not a bad thing, and it can be quite beautiful. Such is the case for ‘Uncontrollable’, the debut album from Miserable.
This is the other side to the persona of King Woman vocalist, Kristina Esfandiari. In the aforementioned band, a crushing, heavy soundtrack backs her deeply personal narrative. For her work in Miserable, she adopts a minimalistic approach, utilising brooding soundscapes to match the intensity of her agonising delivery.
Conceived over the course of a year, ‘Uncontrollable’ is an emotional body of work, tackling frustration, heartache, and misunderstandings. Don’t mistake the project being called Miserable as some attention seeking pity party, or as a way to use melancholy for the sake of writing a record. It couldn’t be further from that. This isn’t just a miserable record; it is an incredibly sad record.
As the sound of rain falling leads the album’s title track, so begins the bleak journey Esfandiari wants to take you on. Her haunting voice echoes over the course of the nine tracks on ‘Uncontrollable’, arresting as it is intoxicating. Each syllable is filled with honesty and despair, which at times becomes hard to listen to, but makes you feel every ounce of pain she has felt.
‘Uncontrollable’ feels like a cathartic release for Esfandiari, and a place for her to exorcise her darkest demons. She is lyrically blunt, with no room for metaphor. “You say he doesn’t care, I guess he doesn’t / stick my head in an oven” she pines on the harrowing ‘Oven’, cutting into you like a soft knife. “You’re the most spiteful person I could never be / when I hear you name around town, kills me” she earnestly declares, over the searing wall of noise that is ‘Violet’.
While the majority of ‘Uncontrollable’ focuses on minor key compositions, and a down beat ambience, it is peppered with several uplifting passages. ‘Salt Water’ is layered with reverb and delay, giving it a brighter texture, and despite the morose tale that is told during ‘Endless’, gorgeous synth leads swoon at its cadence. That is soon eclipsed by darkness as it bleeds into ‘Best Friend’, which has a similar discordant progression to My Bloody Valentine’s ‘Lose My Breath’.
There is nothing inviting about ‘Uncontrollable, nor is it something that is easy to take in. It is challenging, and thoroughly thought provoking. So few albums make you question people, their intentions, and life in general quite like ‘Uncontrollable’ will. While it may have been difficult for Esfandiari to write, the fact she has shared this Miserable record for others to find solace in is a truly wonderful gift.
GLEN BUSHELL