Five solo albums in and Jonathan Bates is still making the music he wants to. As Big Black Delta, he deals in blunt, maximalist electropop that caters to his whims. His latest album, ADONAI, is no different; he’s still writing, recording, producing and releasing all by himself. If anything, this time round Bates seems even more carefree and ambiguous when describing his creation process. “[I’m] making music for people while they figure out their own answers to things. Or not. I’m not your dad,” he explains with an overspent tone in the album’s press materials. Take what you want from Big Black Delta, and if you get something, then great. If not, Bates will keep at it, because that is his want.
Not bringing in outside ears during the recording and writing phase, ADONAI suffers a similar fate to Big Black Delta records that came before it: it’s too disjointed and too full of empty calories. It has flashes of inspiration though, like a mad scientist hitting on a breakthrough. The way the hopeful and triumphant chorus on “Wouldja” bursts into frame is dazzling and the cool air of “NDE” feels like wind in your hair during a nighttime drive. Bold opening track “Uncertainty is Delight” contrasts hair metal-like scratchy guitar chords against a bouncy drum pulse; it doesn’t work but also it kind of does. Like on the other few silvery slivers on ADONAI, there’s a bombast of noise that excels in piquing your attention.
If only Bates were good at knowing where to go with all this energy. Perhaps ADONAI’s most frustrating feature is how it repeatedly trails off, extending tracks beyond the four minute mark with no discernable aim or reason. “YNAlone” should bow out two minutes before it does, but instead it lets what feels like an empty backing track play out. Similarly “I’m Sorry Alex” just fades out after a second chorus bursts it open. Moments like these feel like Bates forgot to record and add in vocal tracks, a solo, or some other feature. (It also makes the album feel about 15 minutes longer than it actually is.) Aforementioned “Wouldja” ascends for that brief moment as it hits its bridge, but then loses control and veers off into a pinging drum track and a series of drum fills that go nowhere. What could have been a seamless transition into the following song feels like an unfinished moment Bates couldn’t be bothered to spend time fixing.
Peculiar decisions that feel like they make sense to anyone but Bates is what you get with Big Black Delta records though. There’s some generic yearning (“I just want you happy / I just hope you’re happy”; “Don’t you worry baby / I will be right here”) but also a hearty dose of lyrics that read like nonsense, despite his best effort to give them heft with a Chris Cornell-like snarl. Even if you take “Out Here” as a ponderous track about extraterrestrial life, what is anyone meant to do with a line like “These entities from earth and sky came fuckabout / Washed away our independence”? In a similar vein, with its jittery synths and quivering strings, theatrical final track “Say Hi To Venus” feels out of place, like a track from a different project stitched on at the end (especially since the funereal tone of preceding song “Move Forward” wraps things up much more neatly).
At the centre of the album is ADONAI’s most curious oddity. “Pik Pok” boasts gulping Push The Button-style synths that make for an oily dance track backdrop. Over the top a xylophone-like instrument plinks out a jaunty and silly melody; it’s like a Looney Tunes character playing rib bones on a skeleton. It’s goofy, peculiar, and a strange diversion that catches your ear, but also feels disconnected from everything else here. (It also gets lost and goes nowhere by the end, descending into a flurry of drum fills like “Wouldja”.) These kind of severed links make up the heart of ADONAI: decisions that don’t seems to always fit with each other, like the mystical midway section of “Splash” where Bates tries to catch the eye of the listener with a spoken word come on of “Splash right into my lap,” or the pathetically amusing little melodica line that appears on “YNAlone.”
If ADONAI resonates in some way, then that’s great. It’s an album that’s best feature might be grabbing your attention – but given its greatest weakness is keeping it makes for an album that repeatedly brings diminishing returns. There are remnants of Bates’ contributions to the Bill & Ted Face the Music soundtrack in the flashier moments, as well as a Spinal Tap feel that all knobs and levels should be set to max. This is full technicolour music, like HESS on hyperdrive or M83 (of which Bates was a touring member) condensed to simple tricks. And given that one Hebrew translation of ADONAI is “master”, there’s the distinct possibility that the whole project is an extended sex joke (“Master Bates”, you geddit?). “There is nothing for you here / I can feel it in my bones,” he utters plainly on “Move Forward”. Coming at the end of the album, that feels like a warning that comes all too late.
