Collegiate Times

Some of the biggest pioneers in music today are not looking for recognition, but are rather creating paradoxical personas and most importantly, anonymity. France's Daft Punk has paved the road for electronica -- all behind illusive robot masks -- while the UK has spawned the ever-so primordial group Gorillaz, where members are represented by cartoon characters.

This allows the opportunity for the listeners to focus on the origins of the music rather than the individuals behind it. Various musical acts have fueled attention to their visual components this way and avoid any distractions from the hands of the illustrator.

The Sound of Animals Fighting is a puzzling and mysterious band that takes on this character of ambiguity for the purpose of creating something out of the norm. Its sound is like ergodic literature: experimental, progressive, spontaneous and reflectively chaotic.

Each band member takes on an identity of an animal, including the band's producers and engineers -- a total of 15 animals are associated with this joint project. Not only do they assume the personalities of these beasts, they wear masks to embody the animals they carefully chose to represent.

The main band members are former Rx Bandits' vocalist Rich Balling, (the nightingale) Rx Bandits' guitarist and drummer Matt Embree (the walrus) and Chris Tsagakis (the lynx). Circa Survive's dynamic vocalist Anthony Green provides his choral contributions as the skunk.

The animals brawl once again today, releasing their newest collaboration "The Ocean and the Sun." The album conceptually is a blend of a generation of music influences with a splash of ethereal shift and sways.

When these primal personas group together with an extremely raw production outlook, you get a little too much. There's static and arbitrary noise scattered throughout the tracks, but sometimes it seems like their purpose is to make the heavier elements seem more amplified.

But when the sounds are insightful and provide an inward look into the artists behind the record, it all begins to make sense, little by little. Don't be fooled, "The Ocean and the Sun" is a rollercoaster of a record that deviates from beginning to end. In ways, this can create an agoraphobic and claustrophobic effect, with a hint of untimely disorientation. But that's what makes music unconventional, right?

The dawn of the animal scuffle first takes place with title track "The Ocean and the Sun," where vocalist Green chants, "you will never get up as close as you expect, the house is a holy place you don't have to leave, every age has said we will call, we'll come again." I couldn't begin to interpret the message behind these lyrics -- the timing of the instrumental hits is just as unpredictable.

One of the strongest points of the record is the spontaneity of Embree, who has a unique style that impulsively screeches guitar styles ranging from At The Drive In to the Mars Volta. Embree's guitar remains propitiously rough around the edges, and offers his talent on tracks such as "The Heraldic Beak of the Manufacturer's Medallion," "Cellophane" and "I, the Swan." Embree's style is cohesively distinguished with tight arpeggios and repeating ascending diminished triads that almost don't make sense.

There are a few roadblocks diverting the album from its full potential. While the record stands alone as a whole movement, there were drowsy gaps that were puzzling. The music itself is wholly innovative, but I find myself skipping through spacey tracks toward the stellar ones.

I know that an album with heavier tracks could provide a breath of fresh air to today's underground alternative. Random buzzes and clatter that animal fighting may spur aren't especially pleasing to non-progressive ears, but that's a part of being innovative.

Grade: B