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Listeners who have managed to remain immune to the trio's idiosyncratic brand of "thespian rock" will no doubt find much of Enemy Mine unlistenable. That said, fans of manic melodies, bohemian pageantry, and synapse melting lyricism have no greater modern champions than Bejar, Krug, and Mercer.
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Enemy Mine is altogether more defined in its varying forms, food groups falling out a cornucopia rather than coming together like the stew that bubbled in the "Beast Moans" cauldron.
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This still isn’t for everyone, but it’s sounding less like a side-project, and more like a super-group.
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The record will prove inaccessible for those seeking a retread of the members’ more famous projects but works when approached on its own terms.
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There are moments when the synths, pianos and strings coalesce to form something resembling the urgency and poignance Swan Lake is capable of, but these spare highlights are only barely worth looking for.
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As relatively bare bones as some of these arrangements are, the songs are as kinetic as one might hope for from such dynamic songwriters. They just wouldnt sound as rich had they been fleshed out by any other set of players. Still, the album's middle stretch sags quite a bit in comparison.
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This incessant sense of creative movement makes Enemy Mine one of the best albums of the year, the sound of three great musicians forged into a product bigger than themselves.
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The distinctiveness of these three weirdos and their democratic approach gives this unexpecedly harrowing album a remarkable cohesion.
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Krug, as usual, beats his own nettled path to pop pay-off. The roughest spots come courtesy of Mercer, who seems excited to soundtrack his blustery voice with cacophony while letting his capable bandmates handle the tuneful stuff.
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Alternative PressThey've given their songs a spine. Stark and deliberate, menageries of vocals ricochet irresistibly between reverb, piano and floor toms and stripped-down Americana. [Apr 2009, p.135]
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UncutEvery song offers something different, which holds your attention. [Apr 2009, p.101]
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The actual music on this album is excellent--the sort of Canadian indie beloved of people who live in cities yet dress like the Unabomber....A hole is kicked in the side of it by Carey Mercer’s berserk singing however.
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As well crafted and fascinatingly acute as Enemy Mine is, it lives in an alternate reality: a place where too much need be forgotten in order to grant Enemy Mine what it would otherwise deserve.
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That the group’s second effort, Enemy Mine, is able to accommodate all three distinct voices in only nine tracks is even more remarkable. But that Enemy Mine is a firm step sideways is less so.
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Essentially, Enemy Mine is a showcase for the talent of the three artists involved. But it lacks the conviction of Frog Eyes. It lacks the focus of Sunset Rubdown.
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Album closer 'Warlock Psychologist' is a glorious mess of distorted keyboard and poetic non sequiturs that less dedicated bands would probably have left off the record. But not Swan Lake, whose perverse commitment to farty art-rock is to be respected, perhaps even embraced.
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Under The RadarIt feels kind of like these three, and this group of songs, would have been just as effective apart. [Spring 2009, p.74]