There’s a new album in town, and it looks dangerous, like an open-bed truck hauling flammable gas canisters. WARNING: Explosive contents under pressure.

The cover art says it all; a tattooed face rises from a river of primordial ooze, frozen in a rictus of feral rage, abnormally long canines and hypnotic eyes intent on their prey––possibly you.

This dovetails with the title, which translated literally––if not accurately––from the French, means “In Your Face”. If one assumed that a confrontational impetus was being implied on behalf of the album’s music and lyrics, one would be correct.

Simeon Flick released Skein, his seventh opus of original material, in November of 2017, a beleaguered year after Donald Trump’s non sequitur election to the Presidency. Purposefully limited to an EP of 5 songs clocking in at a nevertheless unsettling 26 minutes, it was an alternative-rock-pop wind-tunnel blast of vitriol aimed at the stench of everything––and everyone––going bad in America’s refrigerator. Flick mostly subverted this protestant inclination on the three subsequent releases (it’s next to impossible to foment a furor with classical guitar music), but after January 6, 2021, it was once again time to confront some overripe socio-political jive.

Thus enters Dans Ta Visage, the latest “in-your-face” download cluster out of Blue Chair Studio that echoes Skein’s aggressive spirit in its just as brief, albeit more direct and concise alternative-rock confrontation of everything from the broken social contract (“Chitinous”, “Accord”, “Dealbreaker”, “Malady”), the collateral damage of religious fundamentalism (“Beyond Belief”), and generational acrimony (“Nomad”).

The album begins its barrage with the numerological wake-up-call overture, “11:11”, a cinematically ominous instrumental with a distorted guitar motif volume-swelled in and out over a deep synth bass, followed by guitars literally plucking out an eleven-note theme eleven times.

There’s no gap between “11:11” and “Chitinous”; in fact, the first three tracks comprise an arty 8 solid minutes of continuous music, and indeed elements of art rock and progressive experimentation pop up here and there throughout this release.

“Chitinous” finds Flick railing against our former President and the ignorantly hateful supporters he midwifed (“Chitinous––nothing gets in / Hard outside, so soft within / Loyal to the baleful man / who gave their inner bigots a fighting chance”) over a skittish beat and heavy descending chords, while it and the directly proceeding “Accord”––which somehow manages to groove the hell out in 3/4 time––wish aloud to heal the breach through cautiously loving outreach.

“Malady” continues the protestation of the reemergence of America’s ignorance-fueled, echo-chamber culture of hatred and rebuttal for its own sake using hip-hop devices like the acrobatic monster-hook chorus and verse, and a rap section in the middle: “…These days it seems like it’s either bedlam or banality / No in-between, no balance, no grey-area commonality / Just polarity of positions, blind acquiescence or derision / Premeditated principles with one side lacking vision / With no investigation, they label science superstition / Like just because they snub it makes them right in their position…”.

Rap…there’s that word again. Flick sustains the new-genre work he began on his previous release of original material (the pandemic- fermented Gung Ho Hum) with the thread unraveling behind him as he adroitly travels the modern lyrical maze in search of new humanity-threatening minotaurs to spit at on the aforementioned “Malady” and the bludgeoning “No Compromise”.

Flick harbors no delusions about how this somewhat anachronistic, indubitably aggressive music might be received by the increasingly polarized, overpopulated, dumbed- and watered-down America he is confronting; if not met with the usual indifference by our attention-mongering denizens looking elsewhere for mollycoddling distractions, Dans Ta Visage will either be emphatically embraced or shunned. And that’s okay; sometimes an artist’s job is to courageously address the rotting leftovers in the refrigerator, the massive elephant in the living room, the malodorous trash can that needs emptying, and point an unwavering finger at the source of flatulence in the societal elevator, and with a potentially off-putting, fight-fire-with-fire intensity. But Flick would rather speak out and make enemies––or worse: Be utterly ignored––than remain silent and watch the world self-immolate in a chaotic maelstrom of rights mongering at the cost of neglected obligations. In that sense, Dans Ta Visage is Flick’s attempt––such as it is––to at least not be a part of the problem.

Get corroborated or offended––but nonetheless rocked––now by picking up Dans Ta Visage at premium outlets where digital music is sold and streamed. File under alternative art-rock pop with a progressive twist a la Tool, Deftones, Failure, and Rage Against The Machine. Listen at your own risk, and at high volume for best results.