Reviewed by Eugenia Vela.
Copenhagen, Denmark’s Alcoholic Faith Mission began in Brooklyn, New York, in 2006. The story of their origin and band name is one many musicians probably wish they could claim as their own, or at least could’ve made up on a whim. From a large neon cross in the middle of the street, like an epiphany—or a scene from a Charlie Kaufman movie—was a congregation called Apostolic Faith Mission. Add a clever ironic twist to a deep breath of inspiration and Alcoholic Faith Mission was born.
Let This Be The Last Night We Care (PonyRec) is the Danish band’s third album. It is, I’ll just be blunt about it here, the first album I’ve fallen in love with since I began writing about music. An overwhelming sense of melancholy triggers the beginnings of a smile—from the brilliance of the album title, to each beautiful piece of writing that rises from the band’s unique mix of stacked harmonies and gentle guitar.
Story after story in each song, bits and snippets, flashes of cities and women, bodies and lips. The electro/pop blend allows Mission’s lyrics to be dreamlike, yet at times crude. “You shock me/you fuck me/you wrong me” from “Got Love? Got Shellfish” turns into a whimsical picture of “rain won’t let go/of love’s translucent flow” in “Should’ve Left Before She Woke.”
There is nothing weak about this collection. It’s about urgency, but it is calm. It’s simple, but it is poetic. It’s soothing, but it is very much alive. It does what music is meant to do—which is to tell stories with notes, with instruments, with the image of a candle burning in a dark room. I half-expect to hear this album in Spike Jonze’s next film. Let This Be The Last Night We Care is an example to follow—everything’s connected, everything’s related, but nothing is the same. You won’t be bored, and you’ll beg for more.
Red River rating: 9 out of 10