Two weeks ago, I found myself in the unfortunate position of attempting to describe to a friend what Evangelicals sound like. Now, my friend knows better than to ask such questions and I know better than to dignify said question with a response. But only because descriptions of what bands sound like inevitably fall into the big ugly bear trap of who they sound like as opposed to a genuine description of the music itself. What follows is a brief sampling of my description:

“Well, they kind of sound like The Flaming Lips recording Piper At the Gates of Dawn with less acid. No wait more acid! Or Rob Zombie if all he ever listened to was The Beach Boys. But with better melodies. Actually more like The Beatles stuck in their Magical Mystery Tour era if all they ever watched were Italian horror films. Sort of.”

I think you get the point.

It makes me feel a bit better to know that I’m not alone in my endeavor to describe their music. Every review I’ve encountered struggles to find a center around which to revolve. Most fail and end up with a frustrated plea to buy the album because “you won’t regret it.” (Yeah, I’ve heard that before.) Normally, reviews of this ilk would attract me to a record based on curiosity alone. But I resisted for months, intimidated by the inability to understand where this band was coming from sonically and somewhat put off by the relatively cheesy album title and cover art. When I finally gave in, I was nonplussed. They sounded like a pop group; no more akin to psychedelia—a word that was thrown around in many reviews—than say, My Morning Jacket.

But here’s where I tell you to stick with the album because it’s a grower — and I don’t use that term. I just don’t. Because it’s a lazy way of asking listeners to have an attention span beyond that of a fruit fly. But it’s true; The Evening Descends is a grower.

I don’t know if Evangelicals do drugs or not. I hope they don’t because that might lessen their absurd ability to create layers of aural insanity, sharp and chiming guitar runs, and melodies that could grow tulips with their sweetness. “Midnight Vignette” and “Skeleton Man” can pull you in for a taste and leave you hanging by a noose for more of the sweet candy these guys are giving away. Then I revel in the acted-out intro to “Party Crashin’” (the only spoken vignette/intro I’ve never laughed out loud at) before the compressed synths come onboard make you wish Gary Numan had never left the spotlight. The verses to “Here In the Deadlights” definitely owe tribute to Dark Side of the Moon-era Pink Floyd but it’s not a rip-off; it’s a definite improvement and reinvention of a sound that’s gone stale from too much classic rock radio.

There’s reverb and psychedelia enough for everyone in the songs but they never threaten to drown in their own sound. They sit steadily above the fray and drop anchor when things get too rowdy and abstract. And the vocals are always there to bring it all home. Evangelicals have taken insanity and harnessed its ability for an epic album that deserves wide recognition. Don’t let it go unheard.
—Scott Ellingburg

Evangelicals – The Evening Descends

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