ALBUM REVIEW: 3 Songs and 2/5/24 by Sensor Ghost and Mike Andre
There’s something about the first 10 seconds of a Sensor Ghost song that causes the listener to react in one of two ways: I can’t listen to this or I have to listen to this. It’s no surprise I’m on the b-team, as I’m writing this review of their February release, 3 Songs along with lead singer and bassist Mike Andre’s solo release of 2/5/24. 3 Songs is a sarcastic and darkly humorous art-punk romp spanning topics from thought control to a spa for “zillionaires” to an anthem for a post-empathetic society. In “Psychic Robots” and “Still Sour,” the group pulls from modified Dorian and Phrygian modes, scales more frequently used in jazz music. This combined with Amanda Huron’s boldly un-syncopated lead guitar riffs result in music that spews out in an unnatural, jerky way—toxic runoff from the exponential weight of the capitalist machine upon the creative spirit.
I’ve guessed at the lineation here based on the musical structure, but looking at the lyrics for “Psychic Bots” we can see Andre’s love of assonance and internal rhyme. His lyrical composition has notes of limerick and heroic couplet poetic forms. Throughout 3 Songs, Sensor Ghost builds a sound world in perfect synergy with the feelings Andre’s lyrics evoke: something like falling up the stairs or detachedly watching an office building being slowly bulldozed to the ground. Sensor Ghost’s music is fun and it rocks. It’s also uncomfortable, but so are we.
Mike Andre’s collection of solo work 2/5/24 continues in the same vein as songs released in 2021, however, with this recent album, Andre forges a stronger connection between the absurd and the profound. This is due in part to less active acoustic guitar textures that give his storytelling more room to breath. Also, 2/5/24 feels more vulnerable, broaching topics like chronic pain and impending doom.
There is absolutely nothing sexy about a Mike Andre song. If you want to feel like the main character in the indie movie of your life, go put on some footie pajamas and listen to Phoebe Bridgers (brilliant songwriter! don’t get me wrong). The way that Andre’s songs live almost entirely in the objective realm allows me to see the world through his eyes without adding my tiny violin to the ensemble. Lines like “I don’t really need to look to know; the screen is cracked, bro,” from “Cracked Glass” made me laugh out loud. Whereas, the songs “Crude Map,” and “Long Walk Home,” which form the emotional core of the album, were deeply moving. “Crude Map” is a profound meditation on the basic human need to believe that the paths we spend our lives carving out point due North. Andre writes, “No matter which way we turn, bro, I mostly know any way’s right where we are.” This collection of songs is Andre’s crude map of sorts; a series of miniature happy/sad vignettes that pass just like human emotions tend to.
I’m officially adding Mike Andre to my queue. Also thinking of using his music as a hazing technique for new friendships. Must like dogs, trivia, and must be able to laugh and cry to a Mike Andre album.
