If you read my review of the Court Tavern show last week, you might remember that one of the opening bands was the oddly named Ball of Flame Shoot Fire (from here on out known as BoFSF), from Brooklyn. I said that they were weird, but in a creative way, and that they eventually won me over.

Over the course of last week, I thought a lot about their set, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Eventually I was dying to hear more. Lucky for me, BoFSF had just released a new full-length album, Pots and Knives! I quickly downloaded it and ended up loving it.

I think it’d be fair to say Pots and Knives is an “Experimental Rock” album, although that’s sort of an ugly catchall descriptor. Expecting experimental bands to sound alike is like expecting all Europeans to speak the same language. But I guess it’s useful as either a warning or a draw, depending on what you’re looking for. Pots and Knives is dense. It’s one of those albums that take a while to sink in, and it gets better with time and over more than one listening. Noisy interspersions are typical, and its jerky, halting song forms aren’t always immediately appealing. BoFSF use a wide array of instruments, including saxophones, trumpets, synths, and a distorted accordion, along with the usual guitars, bass, and drums.

I find that there’s a big difference between sloppy, “let’s push a bunch of buttons” experimental music, and thought-out, directed experimental music. Thankfully, this album falls mostly in the latter category. At its best it reaches stunningly intricate heights and beautifully spare moments. It’s strange, angry, hopeless, and joyous, part cabaret and part psychedelic love song.  It’s only occasionally that BoFSF’s experiments seem too easy. Take “The Glaive,” with its atonal synth bursts. The noise doesn’t really sound like anything but noise, and doesn’t do enough to make it work in what is otherwise straight forward shuffle.

Aside from nitpicky little spots like those, Pots and Knives’s sound world is magical. It jumps, without warning, between the surreal and the usual. It’s never easy to tell which the next moment is going to be, and every song is a surprise. In this album, it seems as if literally anything is possible. Songs often swing between loud sections with thick textures and soft, thinner sections. This back-and-forth keeps each tune feeling fresh all the way through. It references a wide variety of genres, and these references are almost always authentic in a really appealing way. But the occasionally ironic note does creep in: An example of the less genuine side of Pots and Knives is (once again) “The Glaive,” which culminates in a stereotypically grand mess of funk gestures.

Funk is one of the clear influences here, as are indie rock, classic country, blues, and psychedelic rock. As new sounding as this album is, it draws heavily and obviously from nostalgic sources – a fitting description of most of the indie music out there, come to think of it.

But none of these genres capture the driving force of Pots and Knives. That would be the amazing voice of Jess Tambellini. Tambellini sings on most of the songs, and his broken, soaring voice is captivating, impossible not to listen to. It’s part Isaac Brock, part David Byrne, and completely unique. His songs are wordy, often with lyrics delivered in a stream-of consciousness manner. He completes BoFSF’s sound.

Tambellini’s voice is an effective anchor for BoFSF’s instrumental shifts. The band morphs behind him, but in an organic way, always tied to the story he’s telling, the mood he sets, even to the rhythm of his voice.

…which makes me wish I could understand more of the lyrics he was singing. Don’t get me wrong, compared to most indie bands out there, Tambellini’s vocals are crystal clear. Still, with the amount of ambient noise BoFSF’s tracks use, it’s impossible to understand the bulk of what he’s singing. I would love it if they posted the lyrics somewhere, maybe as a booklet downloadable along with the album. What I did understood is intriguing, snippets like, “I’m just tired of being someone else,” (from “Orz”), and “And if you could see me now, you’d want me less than you did before…” (from “Backyard”). Since the vocals are so focused on the lyrics, and since the album is so focused on the voice, I’m desperate to figure them out.

Highlights include “Little Accountant,” a bluesy tune with slightly off-kilter chord changes. Here, the arc of the song follows Tambellini’s voice perfectly. It’s an example of his storytelling at its best. Another great track is “Bugs in a Bag,” a 6 minute song that feels longer due to its epic texture changes, mood shifts, and attention to minute details. Its last soft section, an exhausted string of ambience behind Tambellini crooning dreamily “I’m so tired…” is an unbelievably beautiful moment.

Since Pots and Knives is so crazily diverse, each listener is going to have their own favorite tracks. It’s not often you can say this about an experimental album, but Pots and Knives has something for everyone, and something for every occasion. There are songs to cook to, songs to mellow out to, songs to dance to, and songs where it’s really best to sit back and just listen.

Maybe the best part of Pots and Knives is that it’s free! For the time being, at least: get it quick! You can download it from BoFSF’s bandcamp profile. No gigs are listed on their website, but for a short period of time you can also download BoFSF’s soundtrack to the Astrolab Productions miniseries Changes in the Gulf Stream, which is also pretty cool. I’ll be keeping tabs on them in the hope that there’s a live show sometime soon… I’ll keep you all posted!