That most complex of human emotions, love—or a hole where love once was—finds itself in the most wonderful and agonizing parts of life and death, and to a lucky percentage of souls, past and present: art. The sophomore album from Portland’s two-piece experimental act Muscle and Marrow, Love, is a requiem for vocalist/guitarist Kira Clark’s grandmother, who helped raise her and recently passed away after battling Alzheimer’s at the end of her life. The record is spellbindingly beautiful yet confrontational and unsettling, and journeys through the entire range of emotions one undergoes when unmasking in the face of love. Love (which is out May 27 via The Flenser) refuses to sacrifice either its immense heaviness or its beauty, which shores up its appeal to Muscle and Marrow’s traditionally metal-oriented audience while allowing for more accessible pop leanings that could land it in the hands of the mainstream.
More subtly, Love is also a nod to Courtney Love. The infamous Hole singer has become a recent influence to Clark, influencing her to revel in her own femininity as an act of subversion, even—and especially— in the midst of a month-long tour surrounded by the most masculine of metal fans. Courtney Love has also been a muse for the band itself: Since the discovery of their admiration for her between the release of their 2014 debut, The Human Cry, and now, Clark and drummer Keith McGraw have shifted the band’s aesthetics from dark, witchy and morose to pink, flowery, and femme without losing an ounce of the dark discomfort for which they have become widely known.