Review Summary: The tried and true contrast of upbeat sensibilities and ominous atmosphere that was last seen in their debut is back, and is newly woven into a scrim of anxiety and film horror.
I'll be blunt for a moment here before I get into the thick of things. And when I say blunt, I mean, well, devastating, because the moments in 2018's Love is Dead that consisted of a chorus being the title of the song repeated ad nauseum were more than fans would probably like to have a score kept on. But in the interest of setting things straight, I took the time to count four songs that committed such atrocities in the name of synthpop: "Get Out," "Deliverance," "Forever," and "Never Say Die," for a total of nearly a quarter of that album. But however grating things felt, and however underwhelming the overall package was, Chvrches now seems to be well aware of their treading on that verge, and in an impressive turn from allowing themselves to go through the motions, Screen Violence brings back the ominous atmosphere and tense pressure that hasn't been seen since their debut. And to the delight of their fans, it is newly woven into a scrim of anxiety and film horror as Mayberry gives her recorded statement from an uncomfortable chair in a dim-lighted interview room.
Taking a cue from witch house hipsters Crystal Castles in nabbing The Cure's Robert Smith for another stroll down synthpop lane, "How Not To Drown" hits hard from the start with prodigious beats, all before abruptly dropping the salient momentum in mid-song for an ambient dropoff, manifesting an influence comparable to shoegaze. This is further evidenced in the melancholy highlight "Violent Delights," a Crystal Castles-meets-Lush fervor that rivals "Science/Visions," being the closest Chvrches have gone to creating the effect of an out-of-body dissociation in sonic form. And speaking of depersonalization, things even teeter on alternative rock at times (Final Girl, Better If You Don't), eschewing the dense percussive synths to the backseat and dramatically leaving more of their sound to be carried forward by Mayberry's voice.
Despite the mentions of body bags, drowning and being dug up, and "screaming" from the inevitable forces that come, make no mistake that Screen Violence is a vehicle to get things off her chest. The infectious "He Said She Said" is where she cries out in agony against a controlling and domineering relationship, being tired of taking fault and being left holding the bag, later to be revisited on "Good Girls" where she gracefully sticks to her guns even stronger than before. "I cut my teeth on weaker men, " she says, "I won't apologize again/'Cause I don't need to be desired/Good girls satisfy, but I won't." These moments, along with a crisp production and the highlight "Violent Delights" and lead single "How Not to Drown" return an ambitious voice back to a group that had possibly been faltering in motivation.
The latter end leaves a bit more to be desired, and after dragging listeners through the musical alleyways and eerie lakes of relationships gone wrong, things slow down for a straightforward and pleasant and no-surprises ballad on "Lullabies," a not so profound unveiling of the album's title - that we are better off inside the screen than actually living the great disasters. Then there is the perplexing "Nightmares," which seems to half-heartedly duplicate the standout "Violent Delights" like a B-Side that wasn't fully realized, as if reluctantly inserted last minute to pad the fairly short run time up to 42 minutes. Things come up to a simmer with a simple closer on which ends Screen Violence with a fizzle.
Otherwise things are delightfully pleasant. Fans will be teased by the opener's all-too familiar setup calling back to previous favorites (Tether, Clearest Blue) but may also be tricked by it, as it instead uses its time to patiently set up the mood for the album before the punch comes in, and the finale ends up lasting a little too short for the long winding up. The synths throughout are distant and withdrawn at times, and jagged elsewhere along with some perverse autotuning, but while Screen Violence showcases more than it lets on by highlighting Mayberry's powerful, far reaching timbre without the need for euphoric and uplifting anthems, it impresses most with the hindsight that she doesn't need to resort to them, because she can dig into the skin and tug on the veins beneath.
