I believe this album’s unusual title is a palindromic way to convey that it is intended as a spiritual sequel to 2019’s Tutti, as it certainly seems to continue the stylistic trajectory of its predecessor. Notably, however, Tutti was assembled from repurposed archival material to coincide with an exhibition whereas 2t2 is composed of entirely new material. Aside from that, the two albums are quite similar, as this one is also a blend of driving synthesizer vamps and moody ambient pieces. To my ears, this latest outing is not quite as strong as Tutti, as it is a bit lean on hooks, but Cosey certainly tries out a lot of interesting ideas (including some new techniques that emerged from her deep research into Delia Derbyshire’s archive). Some of those experiments are definitely more satisfying than others, but there is one killer new piece (“Never The Same”) that can easily hang with Cosey’s previous career highlights.
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Unsurprisingly, “Never The Same” generally falls within Cosey’s synthpop comfort zone, though it deceptively fades in with a bit of nightmarish ambiance before the slow throb of the groove fully comes into focus. While the sensuous groove is definitely one of the better ones on the album, the piece's primary allure lies in the fact that Cosey simply played to her strengths: the unprocessed vocals feel unguarded and vulnerable, there is a repeating vocal hook, there is cool howling psychedelia in the periphery, and her cornet playing adds smoky, noirish splashes of melody.
The remainder of the synthpop pieces are a bit of a mixed bag, but they each have at least one compelling idea at their heart. In the driving opener “Curæ,” for example, Cosey transforms throat singing into something that feels like a melancholy android replicating a sacred chant lifted from a Nonesuch or Sublime Frequencies comp. “To Be,” on the other hand, sounds like it could have been a legitimately catchy song at one point, but the vocals were then deconstructed into smeary, whooshing abstraction. Elseshere, the thumping “Stound” is another showcase for Cosey’s droning throat singing, while the slow and sultry “Stolen Time” weaves a smoky atmosphere with languorously jazzy cornet melodies, breathy vocals, buzzing didgeridoo-style drones, and oozing/druggy vocal processing.
Lamentably, the album’s propulsive first half is separated from its comparatively beat-less second half by a mystifying harmonica misstep (“Respair”) that I have seen charitably described as an homage to Ennio Morricone soundtracks. Fortunately, the following “Threnody” is a much more successful stab at the soundtrack milieu, as warm, lush chords lazily streak across a gently bubbling undercurrent. The remaining two pieces also feel very “soundtrack,” but head in a much colder direction. For example, “Sonance” has the dread-soaked feel of the opening credits of a sci-fi film where a camera swoops across miles of desolate, windblown tundra before revealing the burning, deserted ruins of a scientific outpost, while “Limbic” has the Snowpiercer-esque vibe of a train chugging across a frigid post-apocalyptic wasteland through a hostile gauntlet of violent blizzards and avalanches.
Notably, this album seems to already be a hit with fans, but it feels to me like a transitional work from an iconic artist who seems destined for a future in soundtrack work yet has not yet fully broken with her Chris & Cosey/Carter Tutti/Carter Tutti Void past. That is understandable, given that Cosey can still unleash a killer contemporary-sounding synthpop banger like “Never The Same” more than fifty years after she first began gleefully wrecking civilization in COUM Transmissions. I just wish this album had a few other pieces that could rival it.
Samples can be found here.
