(EDITOR’S NOTE: “lozenge“ – from Los Angeles and with a lower-case L – is not to be confused with “Lozenge” from the UK and with an upper-case L.)
If you are here for facts, these are the facts: lozenge is a Los Angeles-based post-hardcore band. The members are Wes Nelson (vox/guitar), Guthrie Gates (only guitar), and – on this particular song – Ari Bone (bass/backup vox) and Andrew Chanover (drums). They have released three singles off of their upcoming album You Are Always With Me, the first of which is “Communion Wine”. (The other two are “Denver, CO” and “Surrogate”.)
There. Those are the facts. But if you are here for a good time, let us dive into the underbelly of the song and discover why it drives you to a second, third, and fourth listen whilst disconcerting you with its ups and downs.
There are low rumblings of a guitar that pull you into the song. You think you know what is going to happen. Something is brewing here, and you assume that you have heard it all before. But then this glimmer of a metallic guitar rings out, and you are not so sure what is going to happen. The song is preparing you for it, though. The vocals appear subdued, dim. You have to squint to differentiate the words; they are so constrained. Until they are not.
There is a rupture right there that you did not see coming, complete with a litany of dry, throaty screams and an abrasive percussion. When the crisp yet fuzzy screaming ensues, the guitars wrap around it to cocoon it, defensive and protective. A smooth enclosure opens up. There is no knot or bump or hesitation. The time changes on this song are constant and unwind after each discernible point of the song. This is the concurrence of certainty and indecision: Certainty in what is being said, but indecision about how it should be said. The reason the song topples from time signature to time signature makes sense here.
“Do you want to stare at the ground / I’ll be there to bring you back down,” Nelson sings with the slower, more slackened tone, encouraging a navel-gazing bout of existence. It’s a promise to rescue the other person from being completely excommunicated from the world around them and floating away, suspiciously reminiscent of how the song keeps switching from the lax vocals and instrumentation to the more agitated tone and sound.
The song ends with another time change. The tempo quickens, the whining vocals beckon, and the inviting guitars disappear. This sound has teeth; it is almost luring.
This song is deceptive, but that is just another fact. And facts do not factor into the oscillating emotions of this song. The song is not trying to be deceptive. It is trying to be sincere, maybe even earnest. And that is the truth. And at the end of the day, facts are boring, and the truth is unsettling. You tell me which of those you hear in this song when you listen to “Communion Wine” below.
Written by Leo August
