No Home Record

For all the screeching dissonance and politically infused anger present, No Home Record is a real joy of an album, proof if proof were ever needed that Gordon will not allow herself to slide into anything approaching resting on her laurels.

It finds Gordon arriving as a solo artist, nearly 40 years after Sonic Youth released its first recordings, with one of the most challenging and intriguing albums of the year.

No Home Record is impossible to listen to without making reference to her former band, yet it stands alone as the finest work of a magnificent, imposing talent.

Even longtime fans may find themselves thunderstruck by some of the turns she takes here. But the record also confirms the essence of her creative identity; it’s shot through with sounds and concepts that have defined her work over the years, just presented in a way we’ve never heard them before. ... No Home Record offers something radically new and, in places, almost shockingly contemporary.

A ferocious solo debut. It’s jagged, chaotic and mesmerizing in a way that pulls you inevitably into the thick of it, as if the songs were exerting their own inescapable gravity.

Gordon sings with a becalmed daydream-y satisfaction, mixing and matching phrases from different notebooks into a confident patchwork. [Nov 2019, p.54]

No Home Record wraps up on a positive note, proving Gordon is still pushing herself as an artist.

Little about the album feels predictable, neither the musical texture nor the oblique and sometimes imagistic lyrics. Gordon can be startling at times, and she does it all with a cool (a non-commercial, unreproducible cool, that is) that, as much as anything, makes No Home Record so particular to Gordon.

These punishing, three-dimensional soundscapes connect 70s No Wave with the mischievous end of contemporary digital production: quite a feat.

With its raw edges and open ends, No Home Record exposes the deepest levels of Gordon's art, and they're more thought-provoking and bracing than ever.

The album dazzles with the thrilling cocktail of styles Gordon’s been through, as if changing channels on the coolest radio on earth. But she never makes herself fully at home in any of them. ... Gordon’s bet is that the people are ready for weirdness, that the world can embrace its complexities. And the only way is forward.

No Home Record’s lack of cohesion is unlikely to pull you deep into its disjointed soundworld. What does unite the tracks, though, is the restlessly questing, non-conformist spirit of their creator. It’s great to have her back.

It’s a record that makes incisions into the staid, one that knocks over the steadfast; it’s a bold, thrilling construction, one that pushes her history to one side in order to build anew.

An uniformly compelling set. [Nov 2019, p.27]

It feels hungry, modern and thrilling. [Nov 2019, p.111]

No Home Record is heavy in its use of experimentation, yet it results in a vividly cutting and complex portrait of what it means to live in contemporary LA, and a superb introduction to the solo Kim Gordon.

It's an inevitably cool record—who could possibly be cooler than Kim Gordon? But it's also a challenging, interesting, and demanding album that cues up a bright, loud future for Gordon's solo career.

No Home Record roils with just the kind of catharsis we need in Bad Timeline America. Play it loud, play it often, play it again.

Even during the times where her restless experimentation threatens to become a bit self-indulgent, you’re never far away from a blast of feedback to grab your attention again. It all adds up to a welcome return for one of rock music’s true modern icons.

No Home Record is a masterstroke of intimate solitude, often boiling down to poetic, semi-spoken vocals and a drum machine. ... and noise, as fans of her old band would expect, is expertly corralled. [Nov 2019, p.85]

No Home Record finds Gordon stepping out in search of life after Sonic Youth, musically and perhaps lyrically, and the ride can be pretty mesmerizing.

It’s a strange, industrial trip that’s full of experimentation. Kim’s signature vocal style - a kind of husky, gasping whisper - is as recognisable as ever, though. And like with the best moments of her career, here she is uncompromising in her artistic vision.

Eccentric in all the right ways, No Home Record is just poppy enough to be accessible, yet edgy enough to satisfy even the pickiest of old school noise-rock fans. [12 Oct 2019, p.55]

Uneasy and scratchy, and powered by hefty beats from producer Justin Raisen, ‘No Home Record’ is a restless listen.