Sinner Sinners – Cardinal Sins

Sinner Sinners is something of a garage-rock horror hybrid with an appreciation for some oft neglected frequencies circa a punk’s curiosity.  For their first full length, Cardinal Sins, the Dutch-French husband/wife duo presents a solemn, goth-influenced image – a lone leather clad cover image of a retreating figure hinting at the album’s suppressed tone.  After getting over the initial shock that this isn’t stock horror, I found myself quite impressed by the group’s pseudo-experimental intensions – especially the good few throwbacks to bands I haven’t found reason to reference as of late.

“Zero” opens the dreary session fairly safely, confidently instituting the group’s minimalist garage rock underlay.  Their chemistry finds easy comparison with Jack and Meg White’s White Stripes dynamic – that is, if they succumbed to the depths of depression and manifested their bleak thoughts with a twisted dark humour (oh wait, that happened years ago…).  Guitars boom with ear flooding distortion, and the accompanying static and humming organ plays out like the audio equivalent to those fluttering lines that danced across last century’s silent movies.  Nothing is terribly eerie, but it still plays out moodily in its own right.

Sometimes the duo matches their sense of age with instrumental specters rooted in long dead trends.  For my favourite example, “Stetson,” Sam Thill dusts off the keys of a really old time piano (keeping with comparisons, it sounds as if pulled right from a silent film).  Those familiar with Slim Cessena’s Auto Club and their defining work, Cypher, should find themselves surprised at the curious parallels here.  Another curious comparison in “Stetson” can be found in Elliot Brood – particularly the inclusion of the banjo – although this likeness is more in style than substance, seeing how musically Sinner Sinners and the gothic folk gang were obviously grown in distant pastures.

The album features a ton of guest musicians, each offering a unique twist across a variety of tracks.  For example, Daniel Dart and Chris Boulton lend some spastic vocals on “Cadavra” and “101,” and Mike Pougheon makes several appearances for a good number of hefty guitar solos, particularly those on “Sonic Boom” and “Nightmares.”  While some might think all these guest spots might compromise Sam and Steve’s chemistry, it’s quite obvious that they’re still the ones pulling the reigns.  Everything falls tightly in line, enhancing, rather than muddying each track’s intent.

As one might imagine, with all their stylistic command, lyrics take somewhat of a backseat – although a handful of memorable and catchy phrases secure listeners’ focus.  Weaker passages (as per the title repeating segments of “L.A.’s Burning,” and ineffectual chorus of “Dead Dead Dead”) don’t do the group any favours, but they also avoid dampening those few simple but impressionable idioms.  With such middle of the road lyrics, it’s Steve’s heavy, gothic tone that enhances the simple messages with his drawn out but punked up groan, taking an obvious nod to Danzig era Misfits (they really come to life in “Nightmare”).  In other words, strong music in which words merely do their part.

Aside from the rather nonchalant lyrics, Sinner Sinners debuts on a strong note.  They’re undeniably interesting for a horror themed outfit, making Cardinal Sins a point of curiosity for anyone invested – or even those outside – the genre.