There are few records that are going to be released this year which are as likely to polarise as The Liars new record. Antimelodic, fractured, and deliberately designed to be difficult to get to grips with, it's a maddeningly experimental mishmash of noise that will more than likely have a lot of people proclaiming it to be a brilliant, visionary record, and have just as many people slagging it off as a pretentious load of tripe that's not worth a second listen.

I, personally, fall into the camp proclaiming this as brilliant. Taking its inspiration from the infamous Salem witch trials, this album is swimming with thinly veiled paranoia, desperation, and terror. Songs like the album opener, Broken Witch, which kicks in suddenly with some jumbled drum work, and then opens up into a frantic, irregular beat. The lines of the song are repeated over and over, always in different combinations, and sometimes with a chorus effect giving the somewhat juvenile horror-lyrics an infusion of nervous energy. A skeletal bassline and occasional electronic noises flaring up at random intervals complete the mood, you can almost see the witches being chased through a forest at night by a bunch of pitchfork-wielding villagers led by a fanatical churchman.

When they're not talking about witches, The Liars seem eager to tackle other comic-book horror concepts. Steam Rose From The Lifeless Cloak uses a single endlessly repeating guitar chord and some howling feedback to generate an atmosphere of fear, like zombies rising from graves at the full moon. They Don't Want Your Corn They Want Your Kids pairs various high-pitched electronic noises and a funky-sounding bassline to conjure images of flying saucers coming in the middle of the night to abduct children.

The music presented on this album is wild, chaotic, and unpredictable. This will be viewed as a strength by many, but as I pointed out in the first paragraph of this article, many people will also be frustrated by the sheer weirdness and unfamiliarity of the music. "Pure" song structures are nowhere to be found here, almost everything on the record is fractured and torn beyond recognition. Taking this into account, the instrumentation here is fine, there's not a great deal of showing off that you can do with something as scattered and fragmentary as this, but the band acquit themselves well. Vocalist Angus Andrew shines, his voice carrying just the right amount of desperation, momentum, and kick to make this whole thing work. Without him this album would have been a middling piece of experimental rock, with him it's a mind-blowing exploration of new sonic territory.

The only problem with this album, as far as I can see, lies in its lack of accessibility. It's certainly not an easy album to get to grips with. But if you take the time, and put in the effort, I have a feeling that you will be pleasantly surprised.

There are few records that are going to be released this year which are as likely to polarise as The Liars new record. Antimelodic, fractured, and deliberately designed to be difficult to get to grips with, it's a maddeningly experimental mishmash of noise that will more than likely have a lot of people proclaiming it to be a brilliant, visionary record, and have just as many people slagging it off as a pretentious load of tripe that's not worth a second listen.

I, personally, fall into the camp proclaiming this as brilliant. Taking its inspiration from the infamous Salem witch trials, this album is swimming with thinly veiled paranoia, desperation, and terror. Songs like the album opener, Broken Witch, which kicks in suddenly with some jumbled drum work, and then opens up into a frantic, irregular beat. The lines of the song are repeated over and over, always in different combinations, and sometimes with a chorus effect giving the somewhat juvenile horror-lyrics an infusion of nervous energy. A skeletal bassline and occasional electronic noises flaring up at random intervals complete the mood, you can almost see the witches being chased through a forest at night by a bunch of pitchfork-wielding villagers led by a fanatical churchman.

When they're not talking about witches, The Liars seem eager to tackle other comic-book horror concepts. Steam Rose From The Lifeless Cloak uses a single endlessly repeating guitar chord and some howling feedback to generate an atmosphere of fear, like zombies rising from graves at the full moon. They Don't Want Your Corn They Want Your Kids pairs various high-pitched electronic noises and a funky-sounding bassline to conjure images of flying saucers coming in the middle of the night to abduct children.

The music presented on this album is wild, chaotic, and unpredictable. This will be viewed as a strength by many, but as I pointed out in the first paragraph of this article, many people will also be frustrated by the sheer weirdness and unfamiliarity of the music. "Pure" song structures are nowhere to be found here, almost everything on the record is fractured and torn beyond recognition. Taking this into account, the instrumentation here is fine, there's not a great deal of showing off that you can do with something as scattered and fragmentary as this, but the band acquit themselves well. Vocalist Angus Andrew shines, his voice carrying just the right amount of desperation, momentum, and kick to make this whole thing work. Without him this album would have been a middling piece of experimental rock, with him it's a mind-blowing exploration of new sonic territory.

The only problem with this album, as far as I can see, lies in its lack of accessibility. It's certainly not an easy album to get to grips with. But if you take the time, and put in the effort, I have a feeling that you will be pleasantly surprised.