‘…the same bizarre and wonderfully maximalist approach to emo that Topiary Creatures have become known for, but this time manages to feel far more vulnerable and visceral in the process…’
Nashville’s Topiary Creatures are nothing if not prolific. Emerging back in 2020 with their debut record ‘Tangible Problems’, the experimental emo four-piece have continued to release a steady flow of music ever since, with their sophomore record ‘You Can Only Mourn Surprises’ dropping in 2022, and its follow-up ‘The Metaphysical Tech Support Hotline’ arriving in 2024. It was this last record that would become the Vinyl Fantasy Reviews Album of the Year for 2024; a magical, whimsical, and downright heartbreaking look at militant evangelicalism, mortality, and the claustrophobic experience of the modern human.
Since then, the band have featured on a split EP with The Low Blow, and have performed alongside fellow rising stars of the American alternative scene, pulses. and With Sails Ahead. Following their pattern of a full-length every two years, this month has seen the band return once more, with beautiful album artwork in tow. To follow up ‘The Metaphysical Tech Support Hotline’ is an unenviable challenge, but with ‘Greenhouse Oubliette’, Topiary Creatures have pushed themselves to new, brilliant, and outlandish extremes.
‘Greenhouse Oubliette’ retains the same bizarre and wonderfully maximalist approach to emo that Topiary Creatures have become known for, but this time manages to feel far more vulnerable and visceral in the process. Across the span of thirteen whirlwind fiestas of sound, Bryson Schmidt sings of feeling trapped and forgotten, a beautiful world existing just outside of his life that he is unable to reach; self-destruction, crippling anxiety, loneliness, and moments of co-dependency decorate the often-chaotic but always-stunning instrumental backdrops
Opener ‘Grünerløkka Arppegiator / Writing Your Vows in the ICU’ makes for a beautiful two-pronged introduction, as a glistening instrumental gives way to Schmidt asking ‘If I reach the end of me, will you walk with me more?’. From here, the album leaps into lead single ‘Nameless Darkness’, and immediately get about to showing Topiary Creatures at their very, very best. Featuring a particularly gorgeous accordion feature from Anatole Muster, this is a potent tug-of-war between pushing people away and loving them to the depths of the soul. Punchy riffs cruise by stop of driving rhythms, intersected by moments of glittering birdsong. Multi-instrumentalist and secondary vocalist Elizabeth Schmidt offers one of her finest performances during the track’s remarkable blood rush of a climax, accompanied by her husband’s vicious backing screams.
‘Hope Addict’ is where the band’s genre-bending tomfoolery really begins to rear its magnificent, disorienting head; metalcore meets twinkle emo on this cutting look at religion as a tool of oppression and leverage. Accompanied by the vocals of Jody Lester-Slade, chugging riffs play with whimsical synths, screamed vocals echo into an abyss whilst joyous harmonies peer in. ‘8 Trillion Lumen Gas Station’ continues the chaos in a far more light-hearted manner, as a firm emo backbones breaks out into unexpected, glittering disco rhythms, Gibson Littleton laying down a particularly phenomenal percussion performance.
The album seamlessly flows into the follow up ‘Shinji in the Chair Meme’, layering acoustic strumming against a thick, fuzzy bass line and a stomping percussive rhythm that is decorated with delightful filled. Bryson Schmidt offers another wonderfully melancholic vocal performance, delivering lyrics that grapple with bitter isolation (‘There’s no gift of a breaking point, you just feel worse forever’). On the gorgeously romantic ‘Tennessee Dream’, acoustic guitars meld with the pure silk of gentle pianos and hushed accordions. The dual vocals are an utter, dreamlike delight to behold, the natural chemistry that the Schmidts possess clear for all to see.
There is a disntictly jazzy character about ‘Room 4114’ , with the buoyant yet controlled rhythms, and bubbling, golden keys. The rhythmic switch-up around the three-minute mark could unite warring nations, as this ode to past demons takes on a rapturously anthemic tone, before surging towards a gloriously radiant and gut-punchingly bittersweet climax. ‘You Can Find Anyone’s Address Online’ takes on shades of hardcore, delivered with a frantic sense of anxiety, Schmidt’s screams visceral and piercing. The record then gives way in sharp contrast with ‘Cloudwatching’, with its minimalist electronic backdrop permitting the dual vocal lines of the Schmidts to radiate with simple beauty.
The instrumental ‘Hymn for the Husk of the Dried Mint Plant’ sets the stage for the record’s final act, before unfurling into ‘Raft’. There’s a real optimistic hopelessness about the whole affair, as swashbuckling accordion refrains dance with fizzing guitar riffs, and Littleton’s percussion leaps about with reckless abandon. Incredible, infectious choruses demand you sing along, whilst the bridge sees Elizabeth Schmidt deliver a gorgeous saxophone performance. ‘Who’s gonna tell the seafloor you were the best thing on land? If I don’t beat you there’ sings Bryson Schmidt with bittersweet adoration in yet another display of remarkable lyrical talent.
From here, the record reaches its climax, with the one-two punch of ‘Another Round for P. Quinn’, featuring clarinet work from Mase Denio, and the instrumental ‘ScotRail’. A movement that details departures and disillusionment, there is a strangely hazy atmosphere to it all, as Topiary Creatures contrast the soft sounds of celebration with a real sense of hopelessness; a peering out from the oubliette at a world that seems to forever remain just out of reach, home nothing more than a dark internal chasm no matter where one finds themselves. It’s a surprisingly subdued note for such a frantic record to end on, but perhaps the perfect one; the bleeping synths of ‘ScotRail’ impart a gentle notion that all is not lost, and that even in our darkest departures a light remains. It is bitter and it is beautiful, fragile and human, all of it unmistakably Topiary Creatures.
To assign something as being the “6th Wave of Emo” feels a little presumptuous and excessive, but in the spirit of Topiary Creatures’ maximalist experimentation, one may be willing to indulge in ascribing such a label. ‘Greenhouse Oubliette’ is yet another transformative work of art from the band, and one that pushes the limits of what an “emo” outfit is capable of. You won’t have heard anything quite like this record, and you can never quite be certain of what direction Topiary Creatures are going to take next.
RATING: 93/100
For Fans Of: male//gaze, The Dear Hunter, Thank You Scientist, noise beneath the floor, tenmonthsummer
Physical copies of the record are available to purchase here
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