Written by: Dave Cantrell

One of the great things about Bernays Propaganda, beyond their name (Edward Bernays, known as the ‘father of public relations,’ was Freud’s nephew, pretty much invented modern PR, which he considered necessary to quell the dangerous irrationality of society at large, was Vienna-born but, no surprise, would develop his groundbreaking techniques of manipulation here in the States where his family moved when he was one), is the degree to which their continued existence as one of the current-day’s most powerful and adventurous post-punk bands is due their sheer bloody-minded survival instinct. Looking past, for the moment, the towering challenge of establishing, in today’s media-saturated environment where every ear has a thousand suitors every second of every day, an international profile that defines the term ‘widespread renown’ – accomplished via ceaseless touring including a 6-week sprint across the US a couple years ago – the Macedonian band, whose third album Zabraneta Planeta from 2013 was something of a breakthrough, further endured the sudden departure of their rhythm section at the tail end of 2014, a crucial loss that could terminally cripple lesser concerns. Not so Bernays Propaganda. Taking oblique cues from the likes of the Notwist that withstood similar fates (and to whom the opening title track gives a stunning stylistic nod), the core duo of Vasko Atanasoski and Kristina Gorovska simply retooled, plugging in – with new band member Deni Krstev – a drum machine and sampler and inviting back original bassist Saša Pavlovic. The result is like a hand-drawn note to their own resilience, evidence of their fierce self-belief everywhere evident on bold new record Politika, released March 14th on the band’s home label Moonlee Records.

Trawling less through the Stranglered depths found on Zabraneta, Bernays’ sound has taken on a new spaciousness, the forced reboot creating neural pathways that were mostly left unexplored prior. Politika, while still edged with spikes and unbending in the convictions bespoken by its title, breathes with possibility and intrigue (to which the cover’s sly visual riff on Eisenstein only adds) . A track such as “I dvete” (“Both”), though no less pointedly intent, presents with a more electronics-based menace, an effect that in turn invests the track with a broader access, all the more to ensnare your pop paranoiac attentions. Immediately following, “Laži me, laži me” (“Lie to Me, Lie to Me”) basks in a glowing if lively melancholia, employing that most classic of tropes, the resigned, melodically sorrowful vocal buoyed by an irrepressibly uptempo rhythm pattern (there’s that resilience exemplified in a single song, then). In turn, “Jalova” (“Futile”) launches with some spry programmed experimentalism last heard in 1984 (check this cut from the Zulu Compilation), that new drum machine in an industrial overdrive throughout as the track blooms into a dark(electro)wave gem that’s addictively engaging enough to verge on dangerous, think the Eurythmics gone all deliciously sinister. Similarly, the crisp and complex “Ne sum vekje ubava” (“I’m Not Pretty Anymore”) seeks to hypnotize with a type of layered urban pop drone, an economy of busy guitars, and Kristina’s entrancing vocal ensuring your submission, while “Povekje” (“More”) shimmers through a Wire-y substrata before arriving at the track’s main platform where the skittery juxtaposes with a disciplined restlessness, resulting in one of the most compelling moments in Bernays’ already-riveting catalog, its angry nervous tension gripping and confident beyond measure.

While, clearly, they’re as politically attentive as ever and their chops as musicians and writers are up to their usual exemplary – which is to say exacting – standards, it’s possible some of the band’s more ardent fans may nonetheless yearn, sound-wise, for heavier days gone by. Understandable by some metrics, we suppose (everyone has an urge to cling to the old joys), but we’d like to suggest that aside from the basic reminder that as artists Vasko and Kristina et al are allowed to grow in whatever direction they see fit, this particular shift should be viewed in the strikingly positive light it deserves. Bernays Propaganda, as has been the case for so many significant bands before them, haven’t abandoned their remit, they’ve expanded it. To whatever extent, our world became a richer, more interesting place that Monday last March when this album was released. Politika still sticks its boot forcefully up against the barricades, it just makes a more diverse and more artfully forward footprint while doing so.