Thurston Moore – Flow Critical Lucidity

You’d expect nothing less than an enigmatic title for this, Thurston Moore’s ninth solo offering and ‘Flow Critical Lucidity’ certainly doesn’t disappoint there. Something of an enigma himself despite his fame, Moore will forever be associated with Sonic Youth. But it has been a long time since that band graced any stages and Moore’s other projects have now claimed their own places in musical history. 

While not always consistent, Moore is a prolific and inventive creator, not afraid to delve into the avant garde. On ‘Flow Critical Lucidity’, over the course of just seven tracks (let’s not get into the “album” vs “EP” debate…), Moore explores ideas of art, nature, dance and lucid dreaming. That gives a sense of the varied, flexible artistry which seems to course through Moore veins. He’s a restless soul and a thinker, and this album in places sounds like an aural representation of his inner thoughts as well as a reflection of outside influences.

With ‘New in Town’, the album opens enigmatically, too. It’s a touch abstract, rich with incidental noises and faintly unusual instrumentation. The uninitiated may worry that this is all going to be a bit of a challenge (while Moore’s loyal fans will no doubt be in raptures). But there is a strange warmth shining through here, with Moore’s pleasing voice shouldering much of the burden of delivering a sense of closeness and comfort. The artist stands slightly above and apart from the gentle chaos.

‘Sans Limites’ brings twinkling and clearly beautiful piano, as well as more of those high, discordant notes, bleeding through from track one, and shimmering guitar. A couple of minutes in, the drums pick up and what felt like something experimental settles into a more familiar offering. Just when it seems this might be an entirely instrumental track, there’s Moore’s voice after all, appearing without ceremony and taking up the baton. The result is a gently rolling, stripped indie-rock song, with grunge hints. The album title words appear and harmonised voices sing in French, giving an unavoidable flare. The rather sudden end feels just right – Moore is teasing us with something approaching “standard” song form, but he characteristically declines to take that through to a standardised ending.

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‘Shadow’ sees Moore entering more discordant and uncomfortable territory, with stream of consciousness lyrics and yet remaining somehow minimal. It’s a little dark and unsettled, reminiscent of certain eras of R.E.M. and turn of the 80s/90s nostalgia. This departure doesn’t last long, though: ‘Hypnogram’ brings us back to more familiar territory with a dose of acoustic-flavoured, slow and mellow grunge. Here, Moore sounds reflective and mature; he’s laid back and unhurried, but not lazy or tired. The brush-played drums and just-enough guitars, coupled with what could be a theremin, skillfully demonstrate what happens when peak ‘90s-grunge-gloomcore is plonked down into this crazy ’20s world. The song ends with a long drawn-out coda focused on a lovely piano, reminiscent of a well-loved upright in the corner of a wood-floored living room.

With only three tracks remaining, Moore turns the dial towards something more dramatic with the cinematic ‘We Get High’, featuring glockenspiel, siren-like guitars, gravelly vocals – and lashings of reverb. This is one of the markedly “outdoor” tracks, partnering well with ‘Rewilding’ (released as a single for 2024’s Earth Day). A pulsating, insistent, drum riff marks this one out, coupled with a simple minor key melody and riff. Snatches and pulses of mysterious sound rear their heads and leave again, giving a feeling of disorientation, as Moore reflects on themes of natural renewal. Here, however, there are some awkward and jarringly naive lyrical moments, particularly where rhyming lines stand-out against thinner moments of instrumentation. 

Album-closer ‘The Diver’ is slow and reflective. It takes time to get going, and can feel self-consciously careful and stretched out in parts. But it’s undeniably atmospheric, and leaves you feeling satisfied but also intrigued and happy to hear more. 

That’s a good place for Moore to end a record – he knows what he’s doing. Of course, he should, given the career which has preceded him (it’s been 44 years since he started Sonic Youth, and 30 years since he released his first solo album). For the most part, although the record is not without its weaker moments, ‘Flow Critical Lucidity’ is a good reflection of Moore’s rare experience. A deep, if relatively short, listen which will reward repeat plays.

7/10

Words: Phil Taylor

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