With The L-Shaped Man, out in 2015 on Matador, Ceremony makes a deliberate and radical turn. The California band, once a standard bearer of ultra fast hardcore, embraces here a cold, stripped down post-punk marked by the influence of the great names of new wave and English post-punk. A record that runs against its own past. Signing to Matador, a label more tied to indie rock, already said a great deal about this reorientation.
A sonic metamorphosis
Gone are the few second explosions: The L-Shaped Man unfolds spacious songs built on hypnotic bass lines and angular guitars. One inevitably thinks of the legacy of Joy Division or Wire, but Ceremony does not just imitate, it digests these references to draw out a personal, gray atmosphere.
Grief at the heart of the lyrics
The album is fed by breakup and loss. Ross Farrar drops the scream in favor of a more restrained, almost monotone singing that fits the surrounding melancholy. This vocal sobriety surprises, but it serves an intimate, disenchanted purpose where every word seems to carry its weight of contained sadness.
A risky bet
This change of course divided the audience. Fans of the early fury may have felt betrayed, while others hailed the daring of a band refusing to repeat itself. The L-Shaped Man is not an easy record, it asks for time and a readiness to listen contemplatively rather than for a jolt.
You have to take The L-Shaped Man for what it is: not a hardcore record, but a sincere plunge into melancholic post-punk. This turn shows a rare will to reinvent, even at the cost of losing part of the audience. A coherent and courageous album that rewards the listener willing to accept Ceremony in a radically new form. In hindsight it appears as a logical step in the path of a band that never liked to stand still.
