Review Summary: Madrugada's comeback effort is enjoyable, but tends towards a monotonous safety which hinders it's memorability.
Despite the dark and mysterious tone of Madrugada’s music, the typical alt-rock fan can’t help but fall for the strange sense of deja vu gluing their records together. On the one hand, they sound like a freshly desludged Pearl Jam - straight from a chemical refinery, and on the other, they can resemble even the most tender moments of Jeff Buckley’s "Grace." No doubt, this impressive ambiguity can be chalked up in majority to vocalist/songwriter Sivert Høyem’s phenomenally dynamic vocals, which create a pleasant, albeit difficult to describe, moodiness. In the past, though Madrugada have indulged in some of their more gothic influences (mostly confined to 2001's "The Nightly Disease"), their unique brand of dark, country-tinged alt-rock has carried through their discography virtually unscathed. After the tragic death of guitarist Robert Burås in 2007, the three surviving members of Madrugada moved on to other projects, with Høyem enjoying the most success in his solo career. In 2019, the band reunited for an anniversary tour, where they decided to revive the project.
Cutting through their hiatus, and a briefly orchestrated introduction, a particularly moody Høyem, flush with a bassline to match, ushers in Madrugada’s comeback hour. The hook of first track "Nobody Loves You Like I Do" is electrifying, climatically driven by its otherwise suffocating suspense, which could have been (instrumentally) mistaken for the soundtrack of a retro detective film, had it not been for Høyem’s oxygenating vocals. "Nobody Loves You Like I Do" is Madrugada at its finest melodrama, made whole by its dynamic tonality, lush orchestration, and apt guitar leads - it is clear why the track was chosen as a pre-release single. "Running From the Love of Your Life" displays the band’s affinity towards country music with great clarity - Høyem’s vocals are hushed in lower-than-usual registers, and ornamented with a southern twang, all while the lead guitar wails away in the backdrop, perhaps with a slide. Though the track tends towards a polar end of Madrugada’s range, it comes together nicely, without sacrificing timbre.
"Help Yourself to Me," however, is a more orthodox Madrugada ballad, caught in a pleasant mix with a romantic Høyem, hypnotic piano, and gently-strummed guitar chords. The sparse solos and carefully harmonized vocals are a great touch, but the piece is perhaps too safe for its own good, even despite the great detail it contains. Herein lies the major flaw of "Chimes at Midnight": the band seems content with resting in the safety of common mid-tempo ballads, despite the great anthemic variety they demonstrated in the past. "Chimes," though more than occasionally beautiful, is noticeably rounded along the edges. Even the highlight of "Stabat Mater," its weeping guitar solo - which so beautifully mirrors and variates much of the track’s previous melodic development, feels too close to comfort - as if it were a sonically variable puzzle piece. With few exceptions, "Chimes at Midnight" is sometimes characterized by its lack of atmosphere, whereas the pressing gloom of earlier records "Industrial Silence" and "The Nightly Disease" served to separate Madrugada from the pack.
None of this is to say Chimes at Midnight is completely without the classic Madrugada flavor, however. "Slowly Turns the Wheel" swoops in with some of the most attention-demanding and lush guitar work of Madrugada’s discography - almost hearkening back to their former guitar-centered foundation, which Høyem would so effortlessly soar over. Moments of "The World Could Be Falling Down" mimic the golden age, at least when the punchier guitars can break through the mix and drive the track. On the flip side, tracks like "Imagination" and "Empire Blues" fall flat and stand out as monotonous. What might catch the ear in the context of an isolated single (in "You Promised to Wait For Me," for example - which very strongly resembles Høyem’s poppier solo output) fails to do so effectively when stretched across the full hour of "Chimes." Perhaps it was to be expected that Madrugada, now mature, and missing Burås, would create precisely this record. All in all, calling this record enjoyable would be far less contentious than calling it creative, or inspired, which is at least more than can be said about so much recent music.
