Bellafea

As the name suggests, Bellafea exists between poles, or, perhaps more aptly, as a bridge of contradictions. Their sound is both beautiful and ugly—beautiful in its finely woven finesse and consummate patience, ugly in its bristling volatility barely contained within the band’s wired labyrinths. The songs are plain in their structure and direction. Barbed refrains dig their way beneath the skin, driven and twisted by complex execution. Leader Heather McEntire winds her brittle guitar like a silk garrote, delicate and deadly. Nathan Buchanan’s drums punctuate empty space like a landmine ballet. Eddie Sanchez drives graceful, hulking basslines through the floorboards. These are songs as fragile and potent as the emotions that inspire them. If it’s math-rock, it follows intuition. If it’s punk, it’s controlled.

Only Bellafea could draw intimacy from a chorus of helping hands, as they have done so ably and frequently on both of their recorded collections, 2005’s Family Tree and 2008’s Cavalcade. At their core, these are McEntire’s songs. But her careful storytelling and glass-sharp guitars are as constant as her eagerness to solicit contributions from others. Family Tree, the more spare recording, feels like a relic of a slimmer line-up. Indeed, McEntire is the only lasting member captured in those sessions. But that EP claimed sounds offered by The Rosebuds, Liza Kate and Des Ark’s Aimee Argote. The fuller-sounding Cavalcade was a more congealed effort, with Bellafea having solidified its roster, but it too was created with help. Violinist Daniel Hart (Physics of Meaning, St. Vincent), John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats) and members of Schooner all offered their talents.

Live, Bellafea’s committed trio bristles and trembles. They bridge their own contradictions, deriving joy from painful memories, and spinning action from anxiety. —Bryan Reed