A compact, but powerful release from Frank Ene (Fresh & Onlys, Pure Bliss) gives rise to his darkened vision of pop. The songwriter paints songs in deep-blue tones, approaching the total darkness of the abyss, but becoming more radiant within his dour trappings. Ene has a delivery that feels perpetually stung with the numbness of drink. It’s weary, as if he’s been beaten emotionally or physically and is merely looking for that even keel to get him away from the pain. Longtime friend Wymond Miles assists with the production and his own penchant for creating works that are reverent to niche tones within ‘80s pop and post-punk can be felt reverberating through the record’s wires.
Its disingenuous, to nail Ene to the velvet crush of the ‘80s, though. There’s little that ties this record to any time or place. Instead No Longer exists in womb of feelings — scarred, caustic, lost, and appropriately for 2020, secluded. There’s a streak of Lynch in there, but maybe something even more discomfiting. There’s a sense that Frank’s trying to shed his own skin, to swim in the tides of despair looking for the self. If he’s come through the murky waters and out of the other bank, it’s hard to tell by the time the EP finishes. Perhaps his upcoming full-length will tune in a fuller picture. Still for those looking to the ache of Scott Walker or the slow-clot crawl of The Angels of Light, look no further than what Ene has prepared here.
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