If you haven't heard of Rah Bras before, you'd be justified in wondering if Ruy Blas was a large-scale, semi-coherent practical joke. Almost everything about the album says "We're a decadent techno-goth band from somewhere in continental Europe". Even the group's music seems to have been retooled to fit this ersatz image; once an unpredictable noise-rock outfit with a fondness for beats, they've morphed into a weird amalgam of Atari Teenage Riot, Sigue Sigue Sputnik, Arab on Radar and The Faint, pairing unpredictable (if not downright counterintuitive) rhythmic and melodic shifts with a disarmingly club-friendly vibe. And the truly mad thing is, it works.
Let's get the facts straight. The group is based in Virginia, and its members' collective resume includes Men's Recovery Project, Hose Got Cable, Damn Near Red and Sleepy Time Trio. They've already been all over the musical map, so Ruy Blas is really just a walk in the park for them.
"Bababoon" opens the disc with a deep, warped piano melody, which is later reinforced by creepy keyboards, immediately establishing the faux-goth mood. There's a dual vocal -- I believe Boo Rah (we'll humor them and use their group names) does the haughty male stuff, while Isabellarah Rubella plays the semi-sane seductive siren. Despite campy lyrics and the sinking suspicion that Howard Stern will eventually be mentioned, "Bababoon" works surprisingly well when taken more-or-less seriously. Isabellarah also carries the next tune, trotting out her best Siouxsie imitation for "Arty o the Irst Art", a surprisingly danceable combination of whining synth melodies and squelchy beats.
The album proceeds in this fashion, pitching noisy, polyrhythmic slow-burners like "Nux" against processed guitar rave-ups. "Gently JeanRah", a ludicrously lurid sexual anthem played painfully straight, segues into the bouncy, kooky pop of "Fungry" as if such a juxtaposition was natural and right...which, to the Rah Bras, it apparently is. They even haul out Wire's old thesaurus for the album-closing "Bitchin Fissure"; could anyone not fall in love with lyrics like "Crack for buddha / Eidetic scholar / Chomp your molars on your bad position"? Certainly not, and particularly not when they're delivered in an energetic boy-girl chant, backed by a twanky analog synth and a faceless, programmed beat. And later in the song, there's a bit you can breakdance to.
Clearly, Ruy Blas begs the question, "Should I take this seriously?" And in all honesty, it's hard to tell. It's not quite a parody. It's not quite a Spinal Tap piss-take. More than anything else, listening to Ruy Blas is like watching a performance art piece outside of its logical context. It doesn't quite make sense, and you don't know if it should. And you get a sinking suspicion that you're the only one who isn't in on the joke.
On the bright side, whether you figure it out or not, Ruy Blas is surprisingly entertaining, and fits unexpectedly well into the genre it may or may not be attempting to parody -- so whether you're hip to the joke or part of the punchline, you'll be entertained.
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