Swan Lake: Enemy Mine

The first song on Swan Lake’s Enemy Mine sounds like a hangover. Putrid, bleary-eyed guitar skronk; the dazed plod of a drummer fumbling to keep time; a fuzzy bassline that slowly churns like bile in the gut: This is how three of indie-rock’s smartest, weirdest minds decided to introduce their supergroup’s second album. Appropriately, “Spanish Gold, 2044” just gets more awful as it goes on, with Frog Eyes’ Carey Mercer rap-wailing incomprehensibly like a terrified, gagged schizophrenic. But five minutes and one clamorous heave of a climax later comes “Paper Lace,” whose serene classical guitars could have been lifted from an Ottmar Liebert album. Ugliness combined with beauty isn’t something new for Mercer, Wolf Parade’s Spencer Krug, and Destroyer’s Dan Bejar, but rarely before have the three lit-rockers indulged so heavily in extremes. Though the trio has billed this album as a more collaborative venture than 2006’s Beast Moans, each song still feels slotted and defined by its lead vocalist. Bejar’s tracks are all tricky contortions of clichés, from circular barroom shanty in “Ballad Of A Swan Lake” to tear-jerking arena sing-along in “Heartswarm.” Krug, as usual, beats his own nettled path to pop pay-off. The roughest spots come courtesy of Mercer, who seems excited to soundtrack his blustery voice with cacophony while letting his capable bandmates handle the tuneful stuff.