Even gods must fall.
Andrew W.K., white-clad bringer of parties and positivity is experiencing what mortals would call a dark night of the soul. It has been two decades since a bloody-faced
Andrew Wilkes-Krier introduced his signature brand of athletic party metal to the world, and the unlikely empire he built remains one of rock's more peculiar institutions. By the 2010s, it almost seemed as if the speaking engagements, advice columns, books, films, and myriad side projects had usurped his desire to make more albums. 2018's
You're Not Alone was a satisfying, if familiar, return to the buoyant tone of his early days, but on its follow-up,
God Is Partying, we hear the reverse side of that coin. Aggressive, cathartic, and frequently somber, it is
W.K.'s darkest and heaviest release to date. His first outing for Austrian black metal specialists
Napalm Records,
God Is Partying swaps the singer's trademark shout-alongs and bombastic uplift for minor-key djent riffs and doomy references to underworld darkness, fallen angels, and pain endured. While this new W.K. Noir might come as a surprise to some fans, the Michigan native has always been something of an enigma with a long history of experimentation and interesting choices. And behind the entrepreneurial spirit that has sometimes threatened to overtake his artistic pursuits,
W.K. is and has always been a musician above all else. In that sense,
God Is Partying might be his most honest piece of work. Playing all of the instruments himself and singing in a more direct style than on any of his previous releases, he lays bare his soul with a newfound earnestness that compliments rather than conflicts with his longtime brand. We've all seen the fist-pumping
Party God of "We Want Fun" and "Ready to Die," but isn't there a perverse desire to also want a little menace? The sudden revelation of an eternal optimist's dark side can be just as compelling, and on the thunderous "Everybody Sins" and "Babalon," we are introduced to Black Andrew: wounded, doubting, and full of questions, just like the rest of us. On the introspective "No One to Know," he flirts with epic fantasy metal, while the chugging "I'm in Heaven" is downright threatening. It's not a perfect album, and there are some missteps along the way. The goofy sexual innuendos on breakup anthem "We Blew Apart," for instance, don't quite land and feel like they belong on a different album. Still,
W.K. took a big risk in shaking up his formula, and risks often come with growing pains. It's likely the
Party God will rise again, but for the moment, his fall from grace is quite interesting. ~ Timothy Monger
