The Big E (WC)

The last we heard from Editrix, the Massachusetts-rooted band was serving up gnarly experimental rock that bordered on cartoonish eccentricity. On 2021’s Tell Me I’m Bad and 2022’s Editrix II: Editrix Goes To Hell, the trio of singer and guitarist Wendy Eisenberg, drummer Josh Daniel, and bassist Steve Cameron unleashed their fangs, resulting in a demonic wall of scuzz. But for as intense as Editrix sounds, the act is convivial and easygoing — ingrained in deep friendships and speedy, yet jovial recording sessions. Editrix’s most pummeling moments seem to be founded on a heartfelt connection.  In the three years since Editrix II, Eisenberg, Daniel, and Cameron have thrived in individual states of motion — in and away from music. New York City-based Eisenberg is an accomplished solo artist in the avant-garde realm, receiving recent acclaim for their album Viewfinder (released by American Dreams in 2024). They are also a prolific collaborator, performing in a handful of projects alongside the likes of romantic partner more eaze, Bill Orcutt, David Grubbs, and others. Cameron relocated from Massachusetts to New York City around the same time Editrix II came out, taking a slight step away from music to return to school. Daniel is the only member of Editrix left living in Massachusetts, and performs with the eclectic bands Landowner, Hot Dirt, and The Leafies You Gave Me. Due to Editrix being scattered, the band’s new album, The Big E, found them toying with a fresh process. Editrix was quick to write off the idea of writing remotely, as the act relishes warmth and happy accidents. “This was the first time we were making an album with us spread apart,” Daniel reflects. “Time was a more precious resource. Once we hit our stride with it, it became very exciting because we would get together and crank out a song or two in one or two rehearsals over two days.” After a challenging adjustment period, marked by writer’s block and searching for renewed creative footing, Editrix settled into a hyper-productive groove that Eisenberg likens to “microdosing Band.”   The Big E sparked with Eisenberg, Daniel, and Cameron compiling a list of albums they each  admire to establish a self-professed “vibe” up front. King Crimson, My Disco, and Horse Lords were a few key touchstones that shine through, their grounded grooviness balancing erraticism. Eisenberg also found themself infatuated with ‘70s outlaw country and Van Dyke Parks production. The Big E is titled after a comedic bit between band members, sharing its name with a prominent regional fair in Western Massachusetts, although the title-track aptly features massive E chords. When held up alongside Editrix II — which found the act toying with Finnish death metal and harsh noise — The Big E feels settled in its skin.  Editrix recorded The Big E with legendary tech death producer Colin Marston (Krallice, Behold…, Dysrhythmia) at his soon-to-be-shuttered studio in Queens. Though these tracks sound toiled over and technical, they are very spontaneous. The majority of The Big E was captured live, with a handful of overdubs added after the fact. The album came to life over the course of four focused, but rewarding days — a relative eternity compared to the 48 hours that birthed Editrix II. “Most of the time, I don’t even know what polyrhythms we’re playing,” Eisenberg confesses. “It’s about how it feels, and one thing I’m proud of with this record is that it feels a lot more groove oriented than the last few.” They use zen words like “meditative” and “evocative” to describe Editrix’s methods, but the end result is crunchy, intricate, and impressively baffling.  Eisenberg’s lyrics on The Big E emerge from a place of improvisation and intuition, yielding a freeform quality that sets them in a different universe from their solo material. Their songwriting with Editrix tends to be fairly off the cuff, lyrics finished in the studio with a tight deadline as they operate in a self-described “fugue state.” Nowhere does this quality shine brighter than on “Another World,” which is constructed on simple, direct words that are left up to the listener’s interpretation. “In another world / With other faults / I knew you once / You knew it all,” Eisenberg sings over an instrumental that morphs from a breezy intro to a cathartic series of climaxes. “The people who play the songs I write alone in my room have to deal with a different set of problems than the ones that I come into Editrix with,” they say. “In my songs, there’s all these ghostly versions of them that could exist that don’t exist yet because I’m writing them alone. Whenever I get to play with Editrix, even if it’s an unrehearsed, nice, fun show, I feel like, ‘Oh my gosh, I don’t have to be the bandleader, I can just be a musician among peers.’” The limitations of a rigid role within a power trio allow them to thrive in simplicity with Editrix.  The Big E questions what desire does to provoke change, as well as the ambivalent nature of adaptation. “Flesh Debt”  is steamy and salacious, Eisenberg’s lyrics about romantic desire resting atop a feisty bed of bass, guitar harmonics, and earthy ride cymbal. “And you touch my leg / And you touch my upper arm / And you look at me / And you whisper in my ear / You can’t give me what I want,” Eisenberg quietly intones, their voice muffled by muscular distorted textures. “The Jackhammer” expresses anger towards decades of horror inflicted on the people of Palestine, Editrix’s palpable vigor unflinching enough to electrify headphones. On “What’s Wrong,” guitar and vocal melodies ascend like stairways to nowhere over a groove that seems to melt into itself — it mimics Eisenberg’s words, which ponder the exalted authority heroes and lovers can hold, forcing one to have trouble articulating what they truly feel while in a submissive position. The Sabbathian opening to “No” is in line with prior Editrix output, but gossamer verses showcase a newfound dynamic touch. Front to back, Editrix effortlessly settles into a pocket while staying true to their lizard brain, shreddy ways on The Big E.  In conversation, the strength of Editrix’s bond quickly becomes clear. They are a crew of compassionate music nerds expanding on formative time spent in the notably freaky Western Massachusetts DIY scene. Easygoing as the band’s operation may be, The Big E is a strong jump forward for Editrix — their first release for indie stalwart Joyful Noise, who signed the trio after they toured with now-labelmates Deerhoof. As Editrix prepares to level up, their main goal remains to play with interesting artists who share wonky attitudes towards music. “I feel like my ideas about a music career were very different when I was, like, 25 or something than they are now. I just want to do cool stuff with people I appreciate,” Cameron muses on his hopes and dreams for the project going forward. Humility aside, The Big E inches Editrix towards the center of the avant-rock constellation.