Siberia/Hinterland proved to be an experiment in pop thinking as Hawks carefully separated each unique idea into a proper space and running time. Songs constructed of pawn shop toys are kept away from haywired electronic doodles and hushed, melodic pieces. Everything has its right place.
The walls that were quick to erect themselves in Siberia/Hinterland are wholly demolished within the construct of Metal Hurlant/Farmer’s Hearth. The schizophrenic ideas that were easier to digest in the bite-sized morsels which music fans are accustomed are gone, replaced with one towering helping of food. Each idea is layered onto another; mouths pried open like Alex’s in A Clockwork Orange. Frenzied Casio tones and toy sounds being force fed into our agape gullets along with Hawks’ restrained compositions and eclectic pop sensibilities.
Metal Hurlant/Farmer’s Hearth gurgles with pleasurable overindulgence. Nat Hawks, as we come to discover, does not fear his courses touching on bit. On the contrary, it seems Siberia/Hinterland serves more as an introduction rather than a blueprint. The deficit of attention to one sound is still present but the dog pile in which Metal Hurlant/Farmer’s Hearth presents Hawks hope chest of sound lends itself to the Padna brand. Pancakes may be great on their own, but when topped with syrup, chopped nuts, whipped cream, fruit, and butter they become a monument to cooperation; such is Metal Hurlant/Farmer’s Hearth. The cocaine speed of plastic keyboards and circuit-bent gadgets only serve to highlight the marijuana slow of barely touched piano keys and drawn out effects.
It’s this elasticity of style that entrenches Hawks deep in an indefinable scene. Every musical whim is recklessly followed but the results are one of transcendence rather than clutter. Metal Hurlant/Farmer’s Hearth so encapsulates the underground that it seems neglectful not to give Hawks his due.
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