by Chris Coplan (@CCoplan)
What can happen in a year? In early spring 2023, Mulva (featuring members of Kal Marks and Bethlehem Steel) released the truly commanding Seer EP. Across that four-track effort, they emphasized balance — between post rock and sludge, emotional restraint and outright indulgence — to give us this really multifaceted experience. Now, the band have released their debut album, Bitter Form, in which they seem both newly-transformed and yet more familiar than ever. It's just as startling and compelling of a new experience as you’d ultimately desire.
Perhaps "transformation" is a little bit of a misnomer because there's still tracks that feel deeply indebted to the EP and the core experience it facilitated. "Ward Them Off" is this big, visceral alt rock anthem where singer Christina Puerto's earnest vocals must battle through the cacophony of oversized guitar hooks. "Pray for Brains" accomplishes much of the same — only those hills and valleys of noise and emotionality feel even more jagged and inviting. These tracks especially capture what made Seer so compelling as the band found novel ways to present both "captivating beauty and aural chaos" and still balance these sentiments in a way to both maximize our engagement and play around with power dynamics through the medium of song.
Yet there's no denying that there's something different about this LP versus Seer. I think the easier way to explain it is by looking at "Stockpile," which may be the most direct and straightforward cut from Mulva to date. Is it still utterly affecting and hard-hitting in all the right ways? Absolutely — but it's still very much about stripping away some of the blunted emotions and sheer dissonance and letting Puerto and company shine even brighter.
There's other instances across the record where production choices or just a fresh mix or whatnot have reconfigured Mulva's output. "Mother of Pearl" sees Puerto's sturdy, pain-streaked vocals win out (enough of a theme across this record) in what feels like a truly startling moment. Or, "Mends," where the same thing happens, only that Puerto undercuts her own aggressive tones for something that's nearly effervescent and poppy. Even "Pray for Brains," which feels like a proper Seer B-side, balances that swirl of indie noise and lighter, more lenient moments in a way that feels all the more accessible.
That's what it all boils down to: accessibility. Puerto, especially, seems more interested in showing more of herself vocally as well as varying what that actually looks like. It's a presence that nails "angsty banshee," for sure, but feels much more open to notions of vulnerability and a purer connection (things not always possible when Seer was obsessed with shock and awe over moments of uncertainty). With Puerto more free and open to give and take in those expressions, the rest of the band — Carl Shane, Patrick Ronayne, and Adam Berkowitz — support those efforts by opening up their own efforts to engage and play around with the vocals. Not only that, but the band do so in a way that forces Puerto to move and shift across this LP and make really important decisions.
It's about accessibility to themselves and to one another, and being free to find a way to pull back or push forward to find newer ways of balancing loud and soft, brash and nuanced, direct and mysterious, etc. "Lye," while not my fave track, is a standout because you can almost hear this back-and-forth, and it has these moments where the balance seems tenuous but god does it feel so great to move with such uncertainty. The band can do that because they've tried to remain open to more imperfections and messiness because it also carries with it expressions of a more profound humanity and heaps of unspoken texture and context.
The question begs, just why exactly are Mulva opening themselves up? Sure, it's about more robust, meaningful expressions, but could there be more here? There's an energy across Bitter Form that leans toward the accessibility of hard rock, like a more challenging and robust Flyleaf meets Chevelle. So, could we see Mulva selling out mid-sized stadiums anytime soon? Maybe, but there's no denying that in their campaign to break down walls and to feel and express with more range and intent, Mulva see us, the listener, as part of this "transformation" they've undergone. They are more readily seeking out us listeners in their endeavors.
It’s about themselves first, but then also seeing how this "new" honesty can better uplift and absorb listeners. These songs aren't just notches more appealing for their deeply textured experiences — they're structured in a way that demands us to evaluate our own biases and wants from the music. To go in expecting one thing and seeing the band bend and snake in a way that the world around you seems to have opened up. Once again, "Mends" is a great example of that; it feels like a few songs battling out for the spotlight, and through that forceful but intricate experience, we are made to feel an active combatant in the joyous scramble to connect with this song. It's mostly easy enough considering the band's pedigree, but it nonetheless begs listeners to have a sharper, more fully-formed view of Mulva and their output. If that translates somehow to a bigger audience, then hey that sure is cool, yeah?
So, yes, a year isn't a lot of time, except it can also be a lifetime. Mulva’s been smart not to lean into what already worked, but shift and grow just enough, and to feel braver and bolder (collectively and individually) to get a little bigger and weirder in their efforts. Through that, Bitter Form isn't just a solid follow-up but also a daring enough step forward into new realms, audience interactions, and all-around potential. It could be the record that really stakes Mulva's claim — and if it's not, then there's so much inherent value to this thing as an artifact for freedom and openness and using those to navigate the world.
If you wanted a clue what's really next for Mulva, the album closer "Melpomene" (who is, fittingly enough, the "patron of tragedy and lyre playing") ends with truly menacing feedback and general junk noise. Which says to me that Mulva don't want us to know what's coming (other than something big and intense), but it'll strike at our hearts and minds all the same.